


The Master's Touch

by Mythlorn



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythlorn/pseuds/Mythlorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!<br/>Work In Progress: This fic may eventually become time line divergent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter One:**   
  
       Qui-Gon Jinn stroked the soft hair beneath his hand. The boy nuzzled into his touch unconsciously, turning toward him in his sleep. And the big Jedi flinched. This was the way a Padawan behaved; and the implicit trust, loyalty, and devotion in the unwitting gesture left Qui-Gon wanting to walk away as fast as he could. He would be bad for Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had already done one apprentice a great disservice. He had let his pride get in the way of his duty. What he had just accomplished, helping Obi-Wan to finish healing properly, had been for compassion's sake. And compassion only.  
  
Logic said that this one would be better left on Bandomeer with the AgriCorps.  
  
And yet Qui-Gon could not stop seeing something different with his heart: A boy, barely of thirteen, who had been so willing to protect others that he would give his life without thought. Obi-Wan had even been willing to die to protect _him_. Someone who was anything but what an apprentice so desperately needed or hoped for. And Qui-Gon could not return that kind of loyalty; possibly never again, nor for any other being. Not after Xanatos.  
  
The Master had decided to look after Obi-Wan if their paths had crossed. But that was all this was. A convenience, and a favor. Qui-Gon would let the boy stay for a short while; he deserved that much. But when the two of them returned to the Temple, he would bow out kindly. He was not ready to take on another apprentice. Obi-Wan would go back to the Corps. Back to Bandomeer. And all would be well.  
  
There was something odd lacing through Qui-Gon's musings, though. Something that was tapping its proverbial finger against the back of the Master's stubborn conscience. It felt alarmingly like the Force. Like destiny. And as he had done so often of late … the Jedi ignored it. He was through with providence for the time being. There was a mission to accomplish. Xanatos had to be stopped. Qui-Gon could not let himself be distracted, and he certainly did not need any help from ...  
  
It was then that the boy murmured in his sleep, turning onto his side with a sound of pain. And before he could prevent himself Qui-Gon reached out through the Force, wrapping Obi-Wan comfortingly within it to disperse any lingering discomfort. Pulling his robe, which was serving as a makeshift blanket, more tightly around those thin shoulders; the Master could not help the solicitude that washed through him. Which was immediately followed by a sense of profound regret.  
  
What had he just done? The look on the boy's face was so peaceful. So trusting. Qui-Gon was giving him false hope, even in his slumber. The Master's stomach clenched unpleasantly as he tried to give his worry and pain away to the Living Force. And could not. He sensed there was a lesson to be had here. One the Force was trying to teach him. One that Obi-Wan was _supposed_ to teach him. But he didn't have to like it, and he was too stubborn to yield.  
  
In a way, Qui-Gon found himself wishing he could be more like the boy. Obi-Wan followed his heart without fear. Which was not always wise for a Jedi — it was forbidden— and yet there was something inspiring about the trait. Yes, Obi-Wan was reckless. He was sometimes impulsive and aggressive, and he did not seem as capable of touching the Living Force as Qui-Gon thought he should be. Everything pointed toward the two of them not being a match. Especially when one considered that Xanatos had been much the same …  
  
But when Qui-Gon had joined his and Obi-Wan's life forces, when he had healed the other just now … he had felt it. A sense of rightness and weary dedication. And he remembered each time he had tested, pushed away, or attempted to dissuade the boy; only to be shown some of life's most painful lessons again, and through a fresh set of eyes. Obi-Wan had re-taught him things that he had all but forgotten in his grief and self-absorption.  
  
But the wages of that work had been bitter, for Obi-Wan was now afraid to be hurt by him just as much as Qui-Gon was afraid that this boy, too, would devastate his heart. Xanatos cast a long, deep shadow through the center of their strangely intertwined fates. And yet the thought of leaving Obi-Wan when the boy had shown him so much, and had given him nothing but dedication, made Qui-Gon's chest ache. Why did he have such strong emotional responses to Obi-Wan? In a way, even the boy's disobedience and backtalk had been comforting. Obi-Wan hid nothing. Everything he did was out in the open, for right or wrong.  
  
_“*You have pushed aside your past for too long, Qui-Gon. Running from it you are. Yet you can run a little longer before you turn and fight.”  
  
_ Qui-Gon swallowed hard. He was not ready, no matter what Master Yoda thought. He had made such terrible mistakes. A Jedi did not hurt alone, and every decision that a Force user made affected all living things. Especially other Jedi. After all, had Xanatos not already done irreparable damage to Obi-Wan?  
  
Frustration welled up in the Master, but he did not pull away from the boy. Instead he settled closer, determined to watch over the other for a little while longer. This had all been his fault. Obi-Wan deserved better, and he would prove it to him as gently as he could.  
  
Bandomeer. He would send the boy back to Bandomeer. Obi-Wan would be safe there.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan was dumbstruck by the sheer amount of things that had happened to him since the first time that Qui-Gon Jinn had taken him as his Padawan. He was reflecting on that now, meditating in front of the large glass windows in the commons of his Master's quarters. _His Master._  
  
Obi-Wan's belongings remained sitting on a bed in the spare bedroom, still packed. That same room had once been Xanatos'. Obi-Wan had seen the pain on Qui-Gon's face when the door had first slid open, and the worried Padawan had stated that he would be glad to sleep on the couch until Qui-Gon was ready for him to move in. His Master had waved the idea away with one hand; but the sting had been plain on that noble face, and Obi-Wan had wanted desperately to help. Though he knew he could not.  
  
He could barely help himself.  
  
Since they had agreed to … mutually take each other back as Master and Padawan, Qui-Gon had decided that time at the Temple would do them both good. And Obi-Wan was of the same mind. There were so many things they needed to talk about, and many issues for him to sort through himself. His past sat on his heart like a lead weight. It was true that he was still on probation with the Council. He would have to attend classes with various Masters, and continue his education while he was at the Temple to keep himself in shape. And in a way, he looked forward to it. It was a chance to right his wrongs.  
  
Over the last few months, Obi-Wan had lost so much. Cerasi. Bruck. His Master's trust. His faith in himself. And nearly his path as a Jedi. Sometimes when he closed his eyes it felt like all of his experiences would drown him. He knew he had to trust in the Force. That he should meditate and let it heal him. Yet for some reason, he couldn't do that. He wasn't ready. At times he still questioned what he had been taught, his Master, and especially _himself_ . The Living Force had undeniably saved his life time and again, still … belief was tenuous at best for Obi-Wan. Since the Council had begun to doubt him, and he could not blame them for that, he had begun to doubt himself.  
  
He was trying so hard to make wise decisions that encompassed more than his own fate. And still he was so very afraid to make another mistake. He knew how to listen to the Force and let it guide him, but after his rocky start with Qui-Gon he was almost crippled when it came to making decisions. Uncertainty ruled his heart where it never had before. And it was not that Obi-Wan feared he would no longer be a Jedi if he stumbled. He had tried to walk that lonely path already; and he knew that even if he could leave, or was forcibly dismissed ... even killed, he would still be what he was. Yes. Even if he had become a simple farmer on Bandomeer, he would still have been a Jedi.  
  
Now, he only wanted to be an ally to his Master. Not for the original self-serving reasons he once had. (To not be sent off from the Temple, too old and unworthy to be anyone's apprentice, let alone a Jedi Knight.) But because he cared about Qui-Gon. He had fought Xanatos by his Master's side, even when the big Jedi had not _been_ his Master. He had seen what had been done to the man. Obi-Wan had tasted death, betrayal, and corruption: the real universe outside the Temple. And it hurt. It hurt like an open wound that could not be soothed. And worried to be a burden, Obi-Wan was too afraid to turn to Qui-Gon about it. Instead he resolved to take care of the other. To do his best to make that same pain better for his Master. And to mend what he had broken, patiently and carefully. Only then would he truly know what it meant to be a Jedi Knight.  
  
“ _**I fought our bond from the first. But you knew something I didn't. You knew that some things are meant to be. Now I know it, too. You will make a fine Jedi Knight. I would be proud to continue the journey we started together.”_  
  
Qui-Gon's words drifted back to him in that moment, and a part of Obi-Wan sighed in relief. What he had needed, for as long as he could remember, was for someone to be in his corner. Someone he could trust implicitly. And he knew now how hard that very thing had been for his Master to extend in return. Especially for the second time, and in the wake of Xanatos' suicide.  
  
Obi-Wan still did not know what to make of it all.  
  
And so he was Ruminating on it, for what little good it did.  
  
~*~  
  
       “You really need to eat, Obi-Wan,” Bant said, her expression concerned.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, half lost in the book he was reading about Force healing. The last time Qui-Gon had been badly injured, (in a fight with a pirate, no less) Obi-Wan had been helpless to aid him. Since then, the young apprentice had longed to improve his healing skills. He never wanted to be in a position like that again. He could have lost his Master.  
  
“But your stomach is growling. I can hear it,” Bant continued, tilting her head to one side. Her beautiful silver eyes were filled with concern as she looked down to her own tray. The dining hall was packed, but somehow the Mon Calamarian had found a way to elbow her way in beside her friend.  
  
Obi-Wan almost snapped at her in reply, but managed to hold his tongue in time. He knew he was irritable because he had not been eating or resting properly. Not to mention that he was studying and exercising far too hard. He was desperate to be a better apprentice, and to prove to the Council that their doubts concerning him needn't come up again. But in his tenacious attempts to make things right, he had forgotten about the basic issues of human life, like _eating_ and _sleeping_.  
  
Bant was his friend. She would notice when his needs were not being met. She always seemed to have a better idea of what Obi-Wan needed than he did. The Mon Cala was just looking out for him, and he had already hurt her once before with careless words. Force! He had nearly gotten her killed. He would not make that mistake again.  
  
She was his best friend.  
  
“You can't forget her, no matter how hard you drive yourself, and you can't run away from Bruck's death. I know you are afraid. Afraid to face your fears, and even to talk to your Master. I know you are scared that you will make a mistake, or lose Qui-Gon again. He knows that too, and he wishes he could help. I just know it. Master Jinn is kind,” she tried to persuade, his silence ignored.  
  
Obi-Wan paled. Was he that easy to read? “Really, Bant. I'm fine. I promise I'll try to take better care of myself, okay?” He looked at his chrono then, and blinked. “I'm going to be late for my next class, I'm so sorry. I promise I will meet you for late meal,” he said, patting the table emphatically before racing off and not giving her a chance to respond.  
  
Bant just shook her head.  
  
~*~

       In retrospect, Obi-Wan wished he had eaten his noon meal. He wished he had eaten a few more meals, and had slept … at all. He still felt like he was bothering his Master, or intruding on his personal space. So more often than not he would nap overnight in the library, or on a bench by the entrance to the salle hall; then meet Qui-Gon for breakfast.  
  
Speaking of which, the former was exactly what he was doing now. Sitting outside the salle hall. But this time he was not dozing. He was clutching his forearm to his chest and feeling like a bantha's backside.  
  
He had been utterly obliterated by one of the up-and-coming Padawans during 'saber training. And not that his opponent hadn't been talented, because she had been; but the thrashing Obi-Wan had received should never have happened. Truth be told, the weary apprentice had dozed off mid strike. Luckily for him, the salle Master had intervened when it became clear something had gone awry. Now the rattled Bothan was making Obi-Wan promise to go up to the healing hall immediately. With his arm swelling fiercely, Obi-Wan had pledged that he would; and had risen without thought to do as instructed, when his stomach clenched in anxiety.  
  
This would be seen as a mistake. Once the Council found out he had been 'careless', Obi-Wan would be in worse trouble; and more horrible yet, so would Qui-Gon. If there was one thing the boy had learned in the last few months, it was that his mistakes did not just affect him. Dread filled the young apprentice's heart, and swallowing down nausea and pain; he tried to release it to the Force so that he could think.  
  
Obi-Wan was trying so hard to do what was right … and had still ended up making another terrible error. Maybe he wasn't cut out to be an apprentice. That thought left him frozen in regret. He had no idea how he should proceed. Instinct told him to go to Qui-Gon. That the big Jedi could help him do what was best for the both of them. That they needed to talk, and that it was okay to need comfort from time to time. He knew that Bant was correct about his Master. But then some of the past harsh words Qui-Gon had spoken roiled up, seemingly from the darkest recesses of his mind.  
  
_“***I am not testing you, Obi-Wan, life tests you! Every day it brings you new chances for triumph, or defeat. And if you pass the test, it doesn't make you a Jedi, it makes you human.”  
  
_ Obi-Wan didn't want to take any more tests. The one he had this morning on the subject of Ancient Jedi History had been more than enough for him!  
  
Realizing that he had been standing there idiotically for some time, and that he was beginning to gather a crowd, the young apprentice began casting around for somewhere to hide while he sorted out his thoughts. What he had forgotten about was that while _he_ alone was responsible for his actions; he was not necessarily _alone_ anymore.  
  
Obi-Wan felt it, then. The lightest of whispers through the fledgling bond he had come to share with his Master. Qui-Gon was wondering if he was all right. Force! He had thought he hadn't been sharing his distress with anyone, and that he had kept his upset under control. But obviously he had not. He didn't want to have to lie to Qui-Gon. He wasn't sure he could. But he was somehow certain that he would be all right. Eventually. So that was how he would answer.  
  
It took all the poise he had, but Obi-Wan pulled himself together enough to send a gentle wash of reassuring energy back to his Master. He would be fine. He would go to the healing hall. Right … after he meditated. Being anxious would not help anything, and besides, he should be practicing some of his new-found healing skills on himself, anyway.  
  
~*~  
  
       Qui-Gon felt an odd flutter through the bond he had begun to establish with his apprentice. Their connection was not fully formed or strong, not yet. But it was there. And sometimes throughout the day he would use it to touch base with the boy. What alarmed him was the sudden jolt of pain that had lanced through his right arm, and then faded away as if it had been smothered with the Force.  
  
“What is it?” Tahl asked, reaching out to pat Qui-Gon's hand unerringly, even though she could no longer see.  
  
“Something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said.  
  
As if the two Masters had not just been having that very discussion.  
  
“The Council was too hard on him, Qui-Gon. They were too hard on him because they knew that in doing so, you would see the truth. You would see that they were wrong, and learn to love Obi-Wan. You had to. They also know it is easier to pinpoint that which you most dislike in yourself in someone else, first. When you disapproved of their actions, you learned to identify the same shortcomings within yourself. You admitted you were wrong. You took the boy back. There will be consequences for your mistakes, and his, but you will both overcome them.”  
  
Qui-Gon had not asked Tahl to go so far, but he knew it was the truth. And he did need to hear it, even if it seemed an odd time to continue their discussion.  
  
“I meant now,” he said, his other much larger hand coming to rest on top of hers.  
  
“There will be consequences for your mistakes, but you will both overcome them,” Tahl repeated cryptically.  
  
“If you will excuse me, though?” Qui-Gon asked, beginning to sound nervously impatient. Obi-Wan was very good at finding trouble.  
  
That response made Tahl laugh instead of taking offense, and she quickly released his hand. “I am glad that the Council has decided to let him stay by your side, even if you cannot officially call him your Padawan yet. I am sure that his probation will be over soon. Oh, and that you will find him in your quarters. For once.”  
  
There were times that Qui-Gon wondered just how much of the future the blind Jedi could see. Or if she just relied on word from Bant. Either way, the big man was glad for the information. It helped when one knew where to start.  
  
~*~  
  
        In a strange twist of fate, Obi-Wan found himself meditating in the spot his Master normally employed during his own exercises. A place the young apprentice had usually tried to avoid. In a way, Obi-Wan knew he had been subconsciously putting off moving into his shared quarters with Qui-Gon. There were also a number of things he had not considered about his actions, though his intentions had been good. And one of those was the fact that his Master might be hurt by the avoidance, when all Obi-Wan was trying to do was give him space. Another mistake. Obi-Wan's arm throbbed and the boy tried to not think about the pain.  
  
He was certain it was broken. Just like his heart.  
  
In his good hand, Obi-Wan clutched the river rock that Qui-Gon had given him for his birthday, a rock from the River of Light on his Master's home world. It had once helped him survive brainwashing and torture. And while he still had no idea if the gift had been a joke or not; he took comfort from it.  
  
He was hurting. But here was safe. The scent of Qui-Gon was here, and he took reassurance from that, too. He wouldn't bother his Master, as he had gone to have tea with Jedi Tahl. The two Knights were good friends and time together would mean much to them. So Obi-Wan had resolved not to interrupt. Not for something this trivial. He looked down at his arm, which he had failed to heal because he could not find his center. His problems were all small things. Stupid things.  
  
Deep down, he knew that what was happening in his heart was no tiny matter. That it was actually a huge problem that he was still avoiding his Master, and the Force. But something within him was telling him to stay where he was, to have patience, to breathe. That everything would be all right. And so Obi-Wan waited.  
  
~*~  
  
        Qui-Gon let out an unintentional sigh of relief when the doors to his quarters slid open. There sat Obi-Wan.The boy was meditating in the sunlight that filtered weakly through the windows, resting back against Qui-Gon's pillows as if he belonged there. It did the Master's heart good to see. He knew his Padawan had been shying away from him. That Obi-Wan was afraid to push his Master too hard. That was the way of his apprentice. Strong, but reverent. Strong and devoted enough to overcome the shadow of Xanatos in Qui-Gon's life. But still just a boy, nonetheless.  
  
The Master knew that his own distress over the last few days was passing pain. That the two of them would have to be patient as they learned to trust one another, and become part of each others' lives. Qui-Gon was not so foolish as to think he had not emotionally devastated the boy time and again. He should have been teaching him, not testing him harshly. Even when he had believed he would not take him as his Padawan. Or later, take him back at all.  
  
He had tried to push Obi-Wan away over and over again. And he had been wrong to. Worse yet, (or better, Master Yoda might argue) he had set a terrible example for the boy of how a Jedi Master should act. The bond between a Master and their Padawan should be a thing of beauty and trust. If it wasn't, it was broken. Qui-Gon had not been content to just damage his own path in his grief, but the boy's. And now Obi-Wan was disillusioned in a way the Master worried he could not fix. The failings had been his. Obi-Wan had left the Jedi, because the one thing in life he had ever really needed or demanded had been withheld from him; and then used against him.  
  
And that was why Obi-Wan roamed from chair to bench in the Temple, sleeping in odd places like a stray cat, feeling unwanted and starved. He was afraid to intrude on Qui-Gon's grief and Xanatos' memory, while pining for his Master's attention. Bant had been instrumental in that tidbit of information, and Qui-Gon had thanked her for it. The Mon Calamarian had the kindest heart. He was glad that Tahl had taken her as an apprentice, and that she looked out for Obi-Wan.  
  
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had to learn how to be together. Tahl had been carefully explaining that to Qui-Gon, and he saw it now. He saw it when he began to understand that something was wrong with the picture before him; no matter how peaceful it had once seemed. It was little things. The tilt of Obi-Wan's right shoulder; the boy normally had some of the nicest meditation posture that Qui-Gon had ever seen, even among Masters. The tightness in that left fist. Obi-Wan never clenched his fists in meditation unless he was in pain. Then there was the matter of the quiet hum of distress that was finally registering through their bond the closer the big Jedi came.  
  
And that was when Qui-Gon could no longer deny it. Tears were streaming down Obi-Wan's pale face, and there were hitches in his breathing that indicated he was swallowing his sobs. This was the portrait of an apprentice so lost in his hurts that he had missed his Master's approach.  
  
~*~  
  
       “Master!” Obi-Wan gasped out in surprise, clenched fist coming to his heart.  
  
Qui-Gon noticed the boy slipping whatever had been in his left hand into the breast pocket of his outer robe.  
  
Tears still clung to his Padawan's blond lashes, but he had turned to give the big man a tremulous smile anyway. He was trying his best to be positive, and he _was_ glad to see Qui-Gon. But something was wrong. The tall Jedi knelt in front of his apprentice, studying him so intently for a moment that any joy left Obi-Wan's face, and he sobered. The loss of that smile was as close to a flinch as the boy came.  
  
“What has happened?” Qui-Gon asked gently. Knowing that Obi-Wan could not lie to him, and would not dare to omit. So he would have to push past the boy's fear of asking for help—just as Tahl had done for him earlier—if he wanted an answer. Something had occurred, but what? Obi-Wan was thankfully not like Xanatos, who would lie and pretend to be blameless. And even if the truth was harsh, Qui-Gon was certain that Obi-Wan would eventually tell him. Yes. Even if it meant defying his Master.

 

Qui-Gon counted on it, in fact.  
  
Obi-Wan was taking gasping breaths again, his heart racing as his mind roiled. The pain in his arm made it difficult to think. He did not want to lie. He knew he had to answer. An apprentice was not allowed to push a Master for a reply in the same way Qui-Gon was pushing him. It wasn't fair!

“I need help,” Obi-Wan finally whispered. His voice broke as it tried to abandon him, and he looked up humbly. “I know I am responsible for my own actions. I don't expect you to fix my mistakes or look after me. I don't know how to explain to you what I need … I don't think I know what I need. I ...”  
  
“You need _me._ You are supposed to,” Qui-Gon said quietly, interrupting the tumble of words and pain. “You have only ever wanted to be my ally, to learn from me and to grow with me. And I have denied you that repeatedly. So now you are afraid that I will change my mind again. How can you be expected to trust in something which you could not rely on to be there? What you expected and deserved from me did not turn out to be the reality. Not at first. And I am sorry. I was the one in the wrong.”  
  
Obi-Wan bit his lip; and meeting his Master's serious blue gaze, found it so warm that it melted the wall he had unconsciously put up between the two of them. This wasn't a trap like Xanatos had hinted it was. He knew that for certain now. That, and that Qui-Gon would never betray a Padawan. So Obi-Wan allowed himself to nod in reply. And then the words fell out of him in a hapless rush.

“It hurts. It hurts so badly, and I can't find my center. I want to let the Force help me. I need it, but I feel so cut off from everything. So numb.” He made a sound of apology, not able to meet his Master's gaze. “I am not worthy to be a Jedi, am I?”  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head at those disheartened words. “You are my apprentice,” he rumbled; hinting that the discussion about unworthiness was over because it was untrue.  
  
And then he finally did what he had needed to do for months. Carefully, slowly, he pulled a shivering Obi-Wan into his arms. The boy was tense at first, and then gradually slumped into him. Qui-Gon stroked unruly hair with one large hand, feeling silent tears beginning to soak the front of his tunic. This felt right. Obi-Wan was right. Their partnership was right. And the big Master let out a breath that he had not known he had been holding. Obi-Wan was still a boy. And lessons about the little things in life were the most important for a Padawan of his age.  
  
Right now what Obi-Wan needed was a refresher course in support. The Council had done his Padawan's faith a great disservice, even if they had meant well. A Jedi needed to know that he could trust his friends and his teachers. It allowed him to live with the basic confidence that he 'knew what he knew', and that he would always have guidance, whether the decisions he made were right or wrong. It was good to be self-reliant, but a Jedi could do nothing by himself. Because one was all, and all was one. Obi-Wan had felt he had to fight an uphill battle alone if he wanted to do what was right. And that was unforgivable. This behavior was Qui-Gon's doing, and the Master resolved immediately to right his wrong. After all, Xanatos had been too proud to ask for help; and had floundered into the mire of the Dark Side because he felt he had to hide the fears in his heart. If his troubles been shared there could have been repair, or at the least an amicable parting of ways.  
  
“I know of what you speak. There is no shame in grieving. I can tell you from first hand experience that running away from healing, running away from your problems … it leads to unnecessary suffering. Grief is a natural process to be embraced. Each day will get a little easier than the last. And if you trust the Force, you will know peace even if there is still pain.”  
  
The Master was noticing something. Something else.  
  
“Obi-Wan, what happened to your arm?” The limb was raw heat between their chests where his Padawan was cradling it protectively.  
  
“I got beaten by an apprentice two years my junior during my afternoon exercises. It was because I was not paying attention,” Obi-Wan whispered miserably.  
  
Qui-Gon felt the sting to the boy's pride, and that was the only thing that kept him from laughing outright. So that was it. Much worse things could have happened; and the Jedi Master could not help his relief, even if he knew that the injury was the sign of a deeper, more insidious issue. Despite the boy's former creche-mate's taunts, Obi-Wan had never been clumsy.  
  
“Padawan, you really must take better care of yourself.”  
  
“I can't sleep.”  
  
“If you slept in the proper bed that you have been given instead of camping by the salle halls, perhaps that wouldn't be such a problem?” Qui-Gon could not keep the amusement out of his tone. He knew this difficulty went much deeper than Obi-Wan could explain, but he would wait patiently for whatever trouble revealed itself.  
  
“I can't— ”  
  
“— I want you here.” Qui-Gon interjected gently. “Where the Master is, so is the Padawan. You are not replacing Xanatos. Your place is at my side. I am not ashamed of you. No. Not even if you have been beaten in the salle by a youngling two years your junior.” The Master tugged wryly at the tuft of hair behind the boy's ear that was nearly long enough to braid. “Though please tell me Master Windu didn't see what happened?” The last thing Qui-Gon needed was for his friend, and senior Council member, to become insufferable.  
  
Feeling more than hearing the grunt of frustration in reply from his apprentice, Qui-Gon pushed him lightly back from his arms. “Let me see.”  
  
“It's a mess,” Obi-Wan lamented. “I tried to heal it on my own, but I think I just made it worse. I'm no good at healing.”  
  
Qui-Gon took that bruised, swollen arm into his strong hands, cradling it gently as the boy cautiously offered it out to him.  
  
“If you are having trouble touching the Living Force, then that would more likely be the problem. Maybe healing is not something you will find yourself gifted in, but it is an important skill that every Jedi Knight must learn. It has saved my life more than once; and while I am no healer, I managed to tend your fever. And after your imprisonment I was able to bring some comfort to your ribs and head. Though, to your credit, you managed to mend the worst of your injuries on your own. You have some skill.”  
  
When thick fingers turned the wrist to study the nature of the injury, Obi-Wan cried out. Pain lanced through their bond, and Qui-Gon froze. He disliked hurting anyone, especially an apprentice, and he tilted his head in thought. “You are not able to release the pain into the Force as you once could. Are you truly that unable to concentrate?” There was no judgment in the Master's tone.  
  
Obi-Wan was right. There was a disturbance to the boy's connection to the Force. And it might not have been through any fault of his. Qui-Gon had only seen his apprentice's understanding and abilities growing. To go backwards so quickly, and so _specifically_ . It was telling. And he would not shame his Padawan for asking for help in this. The boy was wise enough to see something was wrong and had known that tackling a majority of the problem was over his head.  
  
It took everything that Obi-Wan had not to pull away, but he worried that this was a test, too. And so he was still, though he had to take a deep breath to swallow down the nausea while Qui-Gon examined his hurts. His Master's face held no expression, and that was why Obi-Wan was taken so unaware that he didn't even have time to scream. He would have if he could have, though.  
  
One of his Master's strong hands had been searching the broad muscle above the break, and the other had been massaging at his wrist; when the big man had done the unthinkable. He pulled. And not gently. The act was sudden. Holding traction at elbow and forearm, Qui-Gon had rolled the bones back into alignment, and Obi-Wan dropped to his chest on the floor as if he had been put into a submission hold, cringing. He refused to cry again, not now; and while the urge to vomit threatened to overwhelm him, he vowed he would not be sick in front of Qui-Gon.  
  
When his Master apologetically released his arm, the young Padawan lay shaking on the floor. He knew the bone had to be set. He was glad that his Master had been the one to do it; but part of Obi-Wan still flinched. Had Qui-Gon wanted to hurt him? If he knew that his apprentice could not comfort his pain through the Force as he should, was this a way of verifying that he was telling the truth?  
  
That thought hurt worse than his arm, and Obi-Wan had been about to push himself upright and try to crawl away when Qui-Gon pulled him into his arms again. The rush of relief was immediate. And when his Master sent the Force cascading through him, Obi-Wan sighed in assuagement. The pain washed away in a wave of green light, and the coldness receded from his sweaty body, leaving only comforting warmth in its wake.

Qui-Gon then turned his apprentice in his grasp and settled him between his knees, those long legs wrapping around the boy's, drawing them both into a semblance of sitting meditation. “Let me in. Let me help. I will assist you for now, until we find out what is happening to your ability to touch the Force,” Qui-Gon said.  
  
What his Master meant was their bond. A place within his mind that Obi-Wan had been too afraid to explore. It was rare that two Jedi touched as he and Qui-Gon had. Especially before they became one. It required trust, patience, and gentleness in spades; but the boy had heard that it could incredibly rewarding when done correctly. Both among old friends, and certainly between Master and Padawan. But the closest Obi-Wan had ever come to that experience was with a mind-wipe droid. And all he had known in that place in his head was pain and fear.  
  
The fact that he had still been able to communicate mind-to-mind with Qui-Gon after his misadventures had been a miracle. But there was a way about his Master. Easy and slow. And gradually, Obi-Wan had begun to let him in past his own mental shields. Qui-Gon had been nothing but respectful. Any time they talked, or shared emotion or sentiment it had been brief and careful. But in those moments the young Padawan had sensed just how vibrant and strong it would be between them. If he yielded.  
  
“How?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice still breathy. Qui-Gon's broad chest against his back, that strong heart beating almost as fast as his own … it steadied him. Just like that rock in his pocket that was still hot from his grasp.  
  
“I will not invade your thoughts. I am going to touch our bond, and our bond alone. It is only partially formed, so it may feel strange. I want to make sure nothing is tangled. Then, if you can bear it, I will help you find your center. You should be able to do that on your own, but I believe you when you say it is not a lack of discipline on your part. I sense something is amiss as well.”  
  
“Will it hurt?” Obi-Wan asked. Having his arm set unexpectedly might have been necessary, but he was still wary.  
  
“No. It is very intimate, though. In a way I cannot describe. I will not attempt this unless you give me your permission,” Qui-Gon murmured.  
  
Obi-Wan took a few heaving breaths to slow his heart. And realized the reason that he couldn't was that Qui-Gon was just as nervous as he was. Resting as they were, and touching through the Force, their hearts beat as one.  
  
“Okay. But if I ask you to stop, you will stop?”  
  
“Padawan, you will not ask me to stop. You will blast me through a wall. Have you ever seen one Jedi mind-push another?”  
  
“So there's risk for you.”  
  
“I think that peril is an inherent risk of being a Jedi,” Qui-Gon deadpanned.  
  
“I don't want to hurt you. I've been nothing but clumsy today.” Obi-Wan sighed.  
  
“I just set your arm, and you're worried about hurting me?” Qui-Gon asked, impressed.  
  
“You are my Master, and I vowed to help you, not hurt you.”  
  
“You have a rare heart, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have chosen well, I think.”  
  
“I chose you, what are you talking about?” Obi-Wan teased back, feeling the uncertainty between them fade as Qui-Gon's free hand came up to touch his temple, a broad thumb bracing reassuringly against the edge of his Padawan's jaw.  
  
“You are certain.”  
  
“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered, his good hand coming up to rest curiously over his Master's.  
  
And then there was light.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan shuddered. Qui-Gon was right. It was as if the other was touching a place inside of him so private, so very much _his_ , that it shouldn't be possible. Momentarily he worried that his inner shields might rise up to push his Master away, but then Qui-Gon did something that eased the sensation. It was almost like stifling a sneeze. And as the tension between them began to ebb, Obi-Wan felt that contact grow bolder.  
  
At first the apprentice wanted to recoil, but the urge passed when he realized that his Master was stroking him. Cradling their bond, and allowing their life-forces to mingle. Obi-Wan had not expected it to be anything like this; and he was overwhelmed by the love, respect, and concern that Qui-Gon felt for him. There was no pain. No fear. Everything felt as it should; it felt right. And all had seemed to have been going fine; when Qui-Gon's touch stopped dead.

As if it had reached a wall it could not pass.  
  
Obi-Wan made a sound of objection, feeling the ghost of a pain that had inhabited that place once before. Sensing this, Qui-Gon's energy settled at that spot; and suddenly the Padawan could see what his Master did. Like two strands of rope twined together, their unsteady bond was readily visible. And all around it was scarring. Their connection glowed in vibrant hues of blues, greens, and violets. Some of it was Qui-Gon's energy, and some of it Obi-Wan's. But the patches surrounding it were dark, and almost ... singed.  
  
/Master. It is beginning to hurt./ Obi-Wan tried to communicate silently.  
  
/I am sorry, I had no idea you were injured like this. Rest for now./  
  
Obi-Wan only had a moment to parse that his Master wasn't just replying to him, but sending a Force suggestion. And even as his eyes closed tightly and he felt his body go lax in the first stages of slumber, he sent one message through their wide-open bond.  
  
/Cheater./  
  
The young apprentice felt the rumble of laughter through his back more than he heard it as he was guided toward the pillows on the floor, Qui-Gon's arm around him protectively. And for the first time in months Obi-Wan realized how profoundly exhausted he had become. His body was screaming for sleep. And his last thought before he slid into dreams, was that he was going to miss that late meal he had promised Bant.  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
A/N: The first French scene in Chapter One is not true in time line to the events of book 2 in the Jedi Apprentice series. In order to give my readers an overview of what happened but not give away too much of the plot; I smooshed together and glossed over the first two books (and added bits of my own ideas) to give the feel of push/pull that was more or less a constant between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. [And Qui-Gon's stubborn refusal to let himself heal and be happy :/ ] Books 3 through 8 were such angst factories (and full of plot points that were spoilery) that I thought it best to let Obi-Wan reflect without going into too much detail. Though throughout the rest of this chapter he does meditate on some more serious points from the series and will continue to do so. He and Qui-Gon will be facing those issues together as they grow into a Master/Padawan team. (So spoilers!)  
  
My intent for this series is to write through the slow development and changes in Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's relationship throughout the course of their lives, and this fic may eventually become time line divergent. I will not for any reason write underage sex for these two, so I will allay your fears there. There will be plenty of time for that later when Obi-Wan is grown up :D (Though I can't promise that Obi-Wan isn't going to go through normal development for his age, nor have a crush on his master.)  
  
 I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. Thank you for reading ~  
  
[[ *Star Wars Jedi Apprentice: The Dark Rival pp58]]  
[[**Star Wars Jedi Apprentice: The Day of Reckoning pp133]]  
[[***Star Wars Jedi Apprentice: The Rising Force pp118]]  
  
Alpha Reader: All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
Beta Credit: All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
Zeta Reader: All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter Two:**  
  
      “He's your apprentice, Master Jinn, not a bomb,” Tahl said tiredly, a hand on her hip.  
  
“This is my fault; I was not paying enough attention. What if I destroyed our trust before we even had a chance to begin as Master and Padawan?”  
  
“You didn't, Master Jinn,” Bant said kindly from where she knelt amongst the pillows, watching Obi-Wan's slumber. “I promise. Obi-Wan loves you, and he always fights for those he loves and believes in.”  
  
Tahl nodded in agreement with her apprentice, but could not help her own frustration that Qui-Gon would not believe either of them. She was patient. Very patient. She had to be as a lore-keeper. But always Jinn was pushing her longanimity.  
  
And when Qui-Gon looked up to her from where he knelt beside Bant, even though she could not physically see his face, she knew that his expression was apprehensive. “How much clearer does the Force need to be? Must it hit you between the eyes with a chair? Touch him! He needs your help healing!” she growled.

Qui-Gon's shoulders slumped, and there was such an air of defeat to the man that the other Master could scarcely believe what she was experiencing. This was Dooku's gentle, empathetic, and dispirited apprentice before her; not the Jedi Master that uncertain Padawan had grown into. Clearly the damage of having a cold, unfeeling teacher had lingered, and had set a bad example to boot.

“You called me here, Qui-Gon, hoping I had some experience in this sort of matter. I have to tell you that I do not, though I am still looking for answers. It goes a little slower when you need TooJay to read to you.”  
  
“This is all my doing; I should not be allowed to take apprentices,” Qui-Gon interjected bitterly.  
  
“Feemor turned out lovely, Qui-Gon. You _are_ a good Master. Xanatos did not ruin you unless you let him. And it would make him proud, so don't even think about giving in. You asked me to come to your side. You are shielding Obi-Wan from the Council; and I am here for you at my own peril because you are willing to try. We will put this right,” Tahl said, kneeling beside Qui-Gon.  
  
“Bant is your first, so how would you know what makes a good Master?” Qui-Gon argued mildly, his big hand poised to stroke Obi-Wan's hair.  
  
“I'm blind, Qui-Gon. Not stupid. I don't have to be able to see to know just how much you care. And how scared you are.”  
  
“I am not afraid,” Qui-Gon grumbled.  
  
“Yes, you are. Or you would be comforting the boy right now.”  
  
“He's sleeping.”  
  
“He's practically in a coma! He needs you to console him, and help him heal. And Force forbid the Council finds him with a broken arm on top of all this.” The Noorian Master waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Obi-Wan  
  
“I set it.”  
  
“Without anything for pain?” Bant interrupted, her normally vibrant-orange skin paling, not only at the two Masters' bickering, but in worry for Obi-Wan. She had already blamed Qui-Gon for Obi-Wan's defection on Melida/Daan; and now there was further accusation in her eyes. It was against the Jedi Code for a Padawan to argue with a Master, but there was nothing that said the Mon Cala could not team up with hers.  
  
She narrowed her silver eyes unhappily as she turned to glare up at Qui-Gon. The big man turned to look down to her, and Bant's breathing quickened, but she refused to yield. Both of her webbed hands were clenched into fists.  
  
“I am sorry, Bant. You care about him; he is your friend and you do not want to see him hurt. I will be the first to tell you that I … did not enjoy what I did. But if I had taken Obi-Wan to the healers, the Council would have found out. And I am afraid there is already enough tension about him among the Masters there. You see, not only is Obi-Wan on probation; but there is a suit pending against him for Bruck Chun's death. I need to speak to him about that, but I have lacked the stomach for it. As you might guess, though, that means that I had to treat his arm. I do not want to give our Masters, or Chun's legal counsel, room to find a fault that is not really there. This has already been hard enough on Obi-Wan as it is. They might call him reckless or careless, which he seldom is, and try to use his injury as proof.”  
  
“He didn't mean to get hurt. He's hungry, and he's tired. He's trying so hard, but he's lost his confidence,” Bant admitted, feeling some of her outrage simmer off. The charges had been something she had not known about. And in a way, she wished she hadn't found out. Because someone would have to inform Obi-Wan. “This is because of what that droid did to him when it tried to wipe his memories, isn't it? Obi-Wan talked about having headaches a lot since he came back from Bandomeer, but he wouldn't speak to you or the healers about it. I think he was afraid.”  
  
Qui-Gon felt his heart hit his knees, where it rattled a few times for good measure.

“I apologize. I didn't know. I should have been there for him,” Qui-Gon said. But then, in the same breath, the big Jedi felt a strange lance of hope. If the symptoms were physical as well as emotional, perhaps that meant that they could help Obi-Wan regain his connection with the Force.  
  
Bant looked away, deflating a little; and her hands unclenched, going to Obi-Wan's forehead when she heard him groan. She wasn't telling Qui-Gon everything, but that was to be expected. She was a good friend, and she would keep Obi-Wan's secrets.  
  
“He's coming around. I will start warming up our meal. He needs to eat,” Tahl said quietly, standing.  
  
Qui-Gon blinked. The Noorian and her apprentice had arrived the previous evening at his bidding. And when they had, Tahl had brought a meal that only needed to be reheated, placing it in the cooler 'Just in case'.  
  
“Should you be—”  
  
“—Bant. Come help me so I don't burn down Master Jinn's quarters.”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
The Mon Calamarian stood to follow Tahl, and as she strode past Qui-Gon, there was both hope and a scolding in her expressive silver eyes. And the big man could not blame her.  
  
~*~

      “Master?” Obi-Wan rasped, voice ragged as he tried to lift his head from the pillow.  
  
And there had never been a sweeter word spoken, as far as Qui-Gon Jinn was concerned.  
  
“I am right here, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, reaching out to touch the boy's forehead. His Padawan was a jumble of unruly thoughts and tumult.  
  
“What time is it?” was the question that won out first.  
  
“You slept through the rest of yesterday, and most of the night. It is a few hours before dawn,” the big Jedi stated, broad thumb smoothing the wrinkle of confusion furrowing the boy's aching brow. A headache. One of the headaches Bant had spoken of.  
  
“I thought you said you would help me find my center?” Obi-Wan reproached, surprise and relief coloring his tone.  
  
“I believed you needed sleep more,” Qui-Gon corrected, thankful that he had not made the boy fearful of him. A Master's touch should never be equated with hurt.  
  
At the smell of heating food, Obi-Wan tried to push himself upright, but his wounded arm drew a hiss of pain from him.  
  
“Slowly, we need to finish mending that,” Qui-Gon apologized.  
  
“The Force should have ...” Obi-Wan took in another ragged breath, and Qui-Gon moved so that he could ease an arm around the boy's shoulders; helping him sit up.  
  
“It should have, but it has not.”  
  
“Oh,” Obi-Wan replied, looking down to his forearm critically.  
  
Qui-Gon knew what his apprentice was thinking, even without touching their bond. But he decided that he would not press Obi-Wan. He was certain his Padawan did not believe him unobservant or stupid. Besides, the boy was too busy clinging desperately to what he had left to broach that subject; and living in fear that he would be thrown away once Qui-Gon determined he could no longer use the Force properly.  
  
The Master still could not forgive himself, and now he was even more ashamed. Obi-Wan was confronting every Jedi's worst nightmare. He was only thirteen, and yet he was facing his obstacles steadfastly, and with grace. Because Force knew his Master was too absorbed in his own pain to help him.

For how many nights had his Padawan struggled for a few meager hours of sleep, frantic to escape his growing doubt and fear? Fighting alone to touch the Force and center himself? It was one thing for a Jedi to die. But to lose his connection to the Living Force …  
  
_“The first step in recovering from a blow, is to accept it.”_ Master Yoda had once said.  
  
Master Yoda could stick it in his pointy green ear.  
  
~*~  
  
       Sensing the turmoil around him, Obi-Wan did his best to smile for his Master, and he sniffed the air appraisingly. “Roast Gorak in Malla Petals?” He tried to inject a neutral and positive topic into the heaviness of the room.  
  
“It was Master Tahl's idea; she thought you would enjoy it,” Qui-Gon replied unsteadily.

It had been _Tahl_ who had known that Obi-Wan enjoyed Alderaanian cuisine, and the reminder of how the big Jedi had been distancing himself obviously stung him.  
  
“Master Tahl is here?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously, trying to move past the look of self-loathing on his Master's noble face.  
  
“And Bant!” the Mon Calamarian's voice interjected from the direction of the kitchenette.  
  
Her plucky reply made Qui-Gon smile just slightly, and Obi-Wan grin.  
  
If things were bad enough that Qui-Gon had called in reinforcements, the least a Padawan could do was try to put on a brave face. But despite his resolve, Obi-Wan's expression sobered before he could help it. He was glad to know his friend and her Master were here, too. But he had not been able to sense their Force signatures. He bit his lip, looking down to the pillow beneath him. It was coming. He could not hide his mistakes any longer and ...  
  
“I asked them to come here to help ... me,” Qui-Gon said gently, lifting his apprentice's chin with the knuckle of his index finger.  
  
_Was Qui-Gon trying to save his Padawan's pride?_   Obi Wan was stunned. Jedi were not supposed to feel pride.  
  
“Why? Master, everything is fine!” It was an automatic reply, and it did more than border on a lie. Obi-Wan winced.  
  
“No, Obi-Wan, _you_ are not,” Qui-Gon chastised him once more.  
  
Obi-Wan's expression crumpled. He was on the verge of tears, and a rush of panicked emotions washed over him. He could not give them away to the Force, nor could he meditate on them to work through them. It was getting worse and worse! Would Qui-Gon leave now? It would serve a foolish apprentice right; he had abandoned his Master before and ...  
  
“Master, I'm fine,” he tried again, but this time his voice broke.  
  
“Do not … Obi-Wan. Just because you are hurt, through no mistake of your own—and even if you were—does not mean I will throw you away. Yes, you are a little bit of a mess, but that is my fault. All of it. You are only a boy of thirteen. Capable as a Jedi, and worthy of being my apprentice; but you are young. Now is the most important time in your life as a Padawan Learner, and when you will need guidance the most.” Qui-Gon tried to make eye contact, but Obi-Wan would not look at him.

“You are growing into a man. You need to know that if you do not make mistakes, you will never learn anything. And that not every seemingly wrong choice is the end of your career, or who you are. Or even _us_. And there again, I have wronged you. I have pushed you away until you did not know if you could come to me or not. I have been harsh with you at the wrong times, and I have been jumping at Xanatos' shadow. But you are not him. You are Obi-Wan. You are my Padawan, and I am here for you now. I see you. Not a ghost. Please let me learn beside you. Please let me help you through this time. We will put it right.”  
  
Obi-Wan made a wordless sound, and he could feel Tahl's sightless gaze on the two of them from the kitchen. Not through the Force, not really. It was as if she was pushing one very strong suggestion into his mind through strength of will alone. _/Say, 'yes'./_  
  
“Master, I do not want to be a bother. I do not deserve this sort of kindness, and it is my mistakes that have brought me to this point ...”  
  
“I will ask you again, Obi-Wan. Knowing that I will not abandon you, will you answer me truthfully?”  
  
Obi-Wan stared at his Master, breathing rough with repressed emotion. Consent was important. Especially between two Jedi.  
  
“Padawan, will you let me help?”  
  
There was a long silence in which warm, blue-gray eyes met piercing blue. Then the word tumbled from Obi-Wan's lips in a rush, his voice strangled, “Please ...”  
  
At that lone, ragged utterance, and before he could blink; the Padawan found himself wrapped in his Master's arms again.  
  
And for the first time in what felt like months, the Force rushed back into Obi-Wan.

Admitting that he needed help had removed a few bricks from the wall around his heart, and he was gasping into his Master's shoulder like he was starved for air. He might have been cut off from the conduit of the Force, but Qui-Gon was a tributary. And in him, Obi-Wan found that peace, that stillness, nearly as quickly as his Master's hands cradled his head and forearm.  
  
Qui-Gon was the now. He was the blossom on the vine, and the green, growing life that clung tenaciously to concrete or struggled beneath the snow. The Living Force would not wither, it could not be stopped. It was peace. The emotions that had been rocketing around in Obi-Wan's chest settled, and in the quiet that followed he began to understand: Qui-Gon was unshakable.

Once the big Master trusted, he trusted fully. And when he gave of himself, he gave his all. And as the two of them became one heartbeat, one breath … the pain in Obi-Wan's body started to ease. His headache all but disappeared; his swollen arm began to tingle, and the bruising faded away.  
  
Obi-Wan finally knew what it meant to call another Jedi 'Master', and he experienced what an apprentice should. He felt what could be between him and Qui-Gon, and the growing they had yet to do. He could feel where their bond was weak, and where it had gone silent. But he knew that it would not be that way forever. And Obi-Wan was content to simply be. To take in great lungfuls of air, and let the Force surge through him.  
  
~*~  
  
       “Obi-Wan looks so relaxed,” Bant informed Tahl.  
  
“Good. This is the first step toward healing for the both of them,” the Noorian replied softly.  
  
Bant ceased spying around the doorway of the kitchenette, and went back to filling plates. She also made sure that Obi-Wan had extra on his. She knew just how many meals he had been skipping.  
  
“Is he going to be okay?” the Mon Cala asked, not able to help the worry in her tone.  
  
Tahl stopped stirring the sauce she was heating, and turned to face her apprentice.  
  
“I simply do not know. There have been cases of droid mind-torture in the past, and there have been several 'successful' cases of Force Sensitives being 'cured' of their 'mental illness' through repeated usage of drugs and abuse. Meaning that they had their link to the Force permanently severed. It is possible to do irreversible damage: emotionally, physically, and through the Force. What does seem impossible is to completely eliminate Midi-chlorians from a Force Sensitive's body. Another thing of note is that stress, injury, illness, and emotional upset can lead to decrease or damage in a 'chlorian count.”  
  
“So maybe this isn't permanent. Perhaps Obi-Wan needs to eat, rest, and to feel supported. Then he can get better. And maybe he and Master Jinn can heal where that droid ...” Bant was struggling for the right words, and she pressed two webbed fingers to the front of her forehead, just like Obi-Wan did when he had a headache.  
  
“Yes, I am going to keep looking. All I am finding is negative information right now, but that does not mean there cannot be an upside. At least we know what we are facing,” Tahl said honestly.  
  
The Noorian Master was so proud of her apprentice. It was true that the girl was young, but her heart was big, and it was in the right place at all times.  
  
“What about Master Jinn? He's hurting, too,” Bant finally murmured, this time much more quietly.  
  
“You leave Master Jinn to me. Now take them their meal. We will join them when they have finished.”  
  
Bant was not insulted about missing out on time with Obi-Wan. She understood her Master's plan perfectly.  
  
~*~  
  
       Qui-Gon had thanked Bant when the girl brought them their meal. He had never tried Alderaanian food before, but it did smell wonderful and he hoped it would encourage Obi-Wan to eat. Speaking of which, the boy was clinging to him, and the big Master was afraid to let go. His apprentice was fragile, and still unapologetically drinking in the Force through their combined touch; yet this proved that their weakened bond was capable of aiding Obi-Wan in healing. And Qui-Gon knew that soon enough the boy's arm would be as good as new.

It was also strangely comfortable to be so close. Qui-Gon had expected that joining the two of them in such a manner would have been one-sided and tiring, especially as damaged as Obi-Wan was. But it had not been. Even in this, the Padawan was teaching the Master. In a way, the boy was setting an example in facing fears to heal. For Qui-Gon had felt the changes beginning in his apprentice, and the quiet unfurling of trust between them.  
  
Obi-Wan still did not think he was good enough, but Qui-Gon had to admit that he had seen few more gifted Padawans. And that was why what had come to pass at the genesis of their relationship was such a tragedy. While the Jedi Master was certain that Obi-Wan could grow to overcome everything that was thrown at him, Qui-Gon wished he had not taken such a large part in that life lesson in resiliency, invaluable or not.  
  
If Obi-Wan's confidence had begun failing him, it was Qui-Gon's fault. He knew that. But thankfully, what the Jedi Master held in his arms now was not irreparable. All his apprentice had needed was a nudge. Some encouragement. And the knowledge that he had not been abandoned on his path to seek the life, and future, that he was meant for.  
  
Obi-Wan needed friends. Obi-Wan needed a loving Master who supported him. Obi-Wan was going to become a force to be reckoned with; potentially as powerful as Mace Windu … and as compassionate as Qui-Gon Jinn.  
  
If the big Jedi was honest with himself, his own Master was anything but those things. And he suspected that was part of the problem between himself and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon and Dooku had been a poor match, and it was Qui-Gon who had suffered. Dooku was a strict and cold teacher. He was the one to warn Qui-Gon about being too empathetic. About trusting his friends, and making too many, and how such a behavior would be his downfall as a Jedi. And in a way, that fear stuck with Qui-Gon, no matter how desperately he had tried to bury it.  
  
That doubt had even been instrumental in the final throes of his failed mastery of Xanatos. Qui-Gon had trusted blindly in the boy, and in turn, his floundering Padawan had nearly killed him. Just as Dooku had prophesied. The worst part about the whole incident was that it had mostly been self-fulfilling. It was true that Xanatos had been manipulative from the start, and Qui-Gon knew that he could not take all of the blame. But the cycle of trust and mistrust, the push and the pull … The flames of that fire had been fanned continuously by Dooku's misguided teaching. And Qui-Gon had not been able to see it, nor to break the dangerous cycle before it had repeated itself.  
  
And holding Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon was now doubly aware of just how poisonous a damaged or unequal bond could be.  
  
He did not want a relationship that was arms-length with Obi-Wan. Neither he nor the boy would survive that. And besides, this was his legacy and he wanted to truly be a part of it. Obi-Wan … yes, even Feemor. They were his true estate. He was beginning to see that more clearly every day. And he had to leave his failure behind or he would not see his own destiny come to fruition. Xanatos was dead. There was nothing more Qui-Gon could do but continue his service. To continue to give, and to shepherd peace as best he might.

And to learn from the past, no matter how painful.  
  
It was in Qui-Gon's nature to be too empathetic; and it was in his apprentices to be too quick to judge, and irreverent when frustrated. But it was not a clash of personality as the Master had once thought. It was a perfect match. Whenever there was an imbalance, one could check the other. With Qui-Gon's past two apprentices, he had lacked the ability to allow for give and take. Their relationship had been a dictatorship. And that sort of pride was one of the bad habits that Xanatos had observed and then replicated in his own life. For that, Qui-Gon was sorry. And he vowed to not let that happen again with Obi-Wan.  
  
“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon finally interrupted the stillness between them, feeling the boy shudder as he forced himself to push away from his shoulder.  
  
“Master?”  
  
“I will keep us connected, but you need to eat. Will you do that for me? It is not an inconvenience, I assure you.”  
  
There was a slight pause once more, one in which Obi-Wan tried to process what a proper response would be.  
  
And the boy settled for an embarrassed “Yes, Master” when his stomach growled loudly.  
  
~*~  
  
       Qui-Gon kept one hand supportively on Obi-Wan's shoulder, and the connection alive between them. And Obi-Wan ate like a starving Rancor.  
  
The weary apprentice hadn't really been hungry in days. But not only was this one of his favorite foods, it seemed as if it had been ages since something had tasted _good_. And so when he had finished his bowl, Qui-Gon passed him his portion as well. And that, too, was inhaled.  
  
His Master had reassured him there was more where this had come from, and that he would eat once he was certain his Padawan was resting more comfortably. And normally Obi-Wan would have felt shame in that; but Qui-Gon was telling him the truth. There would be enough to eat. It was not selfish to be hungry. It was not selfish to need support.

And not only had Qui-Gon set a strong example for him today in selflessness. But by asking for help when it was normally difficult for him, he had shown his apprentice that he would be there for him. He would stay by his side. And he would be _on_ his side.

Obi-Wan also knew how much this had cost Qui-Gon. He knew that the Council's involvement in his issues had been avoided; not out of shame, but out of necessity. And that his Master had been willing to risk their ire for him. Qui-Gon had put the well-being of a mere learner before any consequence. And Bant and Master Tahl had, too…  
  
It was humbling, and it was finally dawning on Obi-Wan that he really did have friends. That he had a place here at the Temple, and that he could be accepted.  
  
He was also dreadfully sleepy again. Coruscant was still dark outside the windows, and he could not help his slow slide back towards the nest of meditation pillows on the floor. And while he was vaguely aware of it, he would not remember that he dozed off with his head cradled on his Master's thigh, or that the big Jedi had covered him protectively with his robe.  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~

A/N:  
  
1\. Bant isn't canonically taken as Tahl's apprentice until later in the books. I have sort of nudged up that timeline event because it suits my evil purposes.  
  
2\. The event with the trial for Bruck Chun's death is from _Jedi Apprentice, Special Editions: Deceptions_ I need to buy it and read it. But since I am broke, for now I am content to peruse the cliffs and do my own thing. I have inserted it into the time line where I feel it fits best in my writing.  
  
3\. Food. Whether Qui-Gon has had Alderaanian cuisine before or not, who knows :D He doesn't have a canon home planet. I'm sure he's had missions on Alderaan before, but that does not mean he had time to cruise the local restaurants. I chose the meal option of 'Roast Gorak in Malla Petals' after researching on Wookie, (and after reading the battle over what foods were canon or not, I sort of just died a little inside and made a choice.) and hoped that humans could eat it. And Bant. Well, I assume Bant can pretty much eat anything, even if meals from her home world are preferred. [-mutters about crab filled cream puffs-]  
  
4\. Midi-chlorians: I am adding unsubstantiated bullshit to the plot. Or at least, to me this seems like a logical explanation for some of Obi-Wan's issues. I read a few things ... in some books ... many centuries ago (and refuse to date myself in that revelation.) before my apartment burned down with said books in them. I would look it up and tell you where droid mind torture was used, but I can't afford to buy the entire series again. Maybe someday ^_~  
  
Disclaimer: I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. Thank you for reading ~  
  
Alpha Reader: All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
Beta Credit: All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
Zeta Reader: All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter Three:**   
  
        Bant knelt in front of Qui-Gon, setting another bowl of food down before him. She was still not pleased with the big Jedi. But he had brought her friend peace; and never had she seen Obi-Wan look as contented as he did now. So as long as Qui-Gon continued to take care of his apprentice, the Mon Calamarian would say nothing further. Obi-Wan's happiness was most important. And she would take care of Qui-Gon just like she did Obi-Wan, because one had become an extension of the other.  
  
“You should eat, Master Jinn.”  
  
“Thank you, Bant.” Qui-Gon knew a peace offering when he received it, but he also knew he was not off the hook yet. It wasn't that he _needed_ Bant's approval. But he firmly believed it could help his relationship with Obi-Wan.

The Mon Cala kept looking back and forth between the big Master as he picked up his bowl, and his slumbering apprentice; refusing to touch her own meal until she was sure that Qui-Gon could juggle both his Padawan _and_ his dish of roast. Which he did, wolfing down two or three bites in rapid succession. The meal was good, but it felt heavy in his stomach when he realized that Bant did not even trust him to take care of Obi-Wan's simplest needs.

Which … Qui-Gon could not blame her for. He had fallen from grace in her eyes after the incident on Melida/Daan, and he would have to prove himself again just as his apprentice did. His decisions had consequences, just as Obi-Wan's had. And that truth did sting his pride.

But it was not Bant's gaze that made him feel the most uncomfortable. It was Tahl's; and she couldn't even see him. She did not have to say 'I told you so,' but he knew that she was thinking it loudly. She had always been smug, even as an Initiate. And if he was honest with himself, Qui-Gon had come to rely on her companionable rivalry. She was always driving him to improve. Even now.  
  
“You should take a Midi-chlorian count,” the Noorian said matter-of-factly, breaking the odd silence.  
  
“He's sleeping,” Qui-Gon replied around a mouthful of Malla petal, an air of protectiveness in his tone as he peered down to where his apprentice slumbered. “I don't want to wake him.”  
  
“If you want my help, we need a baseline count.” The Noorian sounded exasperated.  
  
“And how am I going to run that test without anyone catching me?” Qui-Gon snorted, drinking down the broth in his dish and setting it aside. He had eaten just as quickly as his apprentice, if not faster, and he wasn't sure he had really tasted anything.  
  
“You just leave that up to me, Master Jinn,” Tahl said, taking a bite of her meal before she closed her blind eyes with a sigh. It was good. Obi-Wan had excellent taste in cuisine. She quickly ate a few more spoonfuls, and then set the bowl down, reaching into her hip-pack to retrieve her *tester.  
  
Every Jedi was required to carry one. In an emergency, a test of their own blood—or someone else's—could be transmitted to the healers at the Temple. In short, 'chlorian counts, bacteria, and even some poisons were detectable and treatable on the spot in the field. And all without the need to visit a medical center; which was priceless in a great number of environments.  
  
As she made to advance on Obi-Wan, it was Qui-Gon who took the device from her with a frown. “I will do it, Tahl. I don't want to wake him.”  
  
“No. I will do it,” Bant interrupted the big Jedi, a fierce expression on her face. “You'll just hurt him.”  
  
Her silver eyes locked with Qui-Gon's; and the big man handed the tester over to her in surprise, his expression stung.  
  
Bant did not show mercy, nor did she wait for confirmation. She did as she said she would, her every move professional; and when she pressed the button that punctured the skin at the tip of Obi-Wan's finger, the boy did not even stir. He sighed a little, pulling his hand back, but the Mon Cala had gotten her sample, and Obi-Wan slept on.  
  
“There,” she said.  
  
Qui-Gon was looking to Tahl, somewhat surprised that she had not reprimanded her apprentice. But once again the Noorian remained mute. Though she did have an irritating smirk turning up the corner of her mouth when Bant placed the tester in her hand.  
  
“We will go run this, if the two of you can behave in our absence?” Tahl asked, standing. She hadn't gotten to finish her meal. But neither had Bant.  
  
“Why … don't you stay a while longer? I could make tea,” Qui-Gon asked, looking almost crestfallen.  
  
“Master Jinn, are you afraid of what these test results might show?”  
  
“Never. I am not stalling, I am simply—”  
  
“—I will send Bant to go run the tests, then. She is friendly with some of the healers' apprentices, and they can do the work without notice. Especially at this hour. Besides, I think she is long overdue for a swim.”  
  
The Mon Calamarian was looking pale and somewhat … tacky. Which was not a good sign for one of her people.  
  
“And you?” Qui-Gon asked.  
  
“And I shall remain here with you, and have some tea.” Tahl picked her dish back up again after passing the tester over to Bant.  
  
“That's two late meals Obi-Wan owes me,” the Mon Cala said forlornly, giving her cooling meal a sad, backward glance.  
  
~*~

       When Qui-Gon put Obi-Wan down on the bed, the connection between them was broken, and the boy made such a pitiful sound that the big Master's heart lurched in his chest.  
  
“Rest, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon murmured, stroking his Padawan's hair before tucking him in beneath the blankets ... in the room that had once been Xanatos'.  
  
A warm hand came to rest at the small of Qui-Gon's back, and he startled before he turned to see Tahl. She smiled reassuringly to him even though her pale, striped eyes did not meet his. “He will adjust, and so will you. He was right, I think. To wait. I can feel how much standing in here hurts you.”  
  
“Is it wrong of me to put him in his own quarters to finish out the night?” Qui-Gon asked. He did not want to force Obi-Wan to be anywhere he did not wish to.  
  
“He has to mark this space as his own, just as he has you.” Tahl laughed softly. “Perhaps if you actively place him here, he will be able to grasp that fact. And maybe … he will finally feel like he's staking a claim on part of you, and pushing Xanatos out for good.”  
  
“Attachment and ownership are strictly forb—”  
  
“—Don't start on that tonight. The boy needs to be wanted. And he deserves to be wanted. He deserves you, you deserve him, and you both deserve your own space and to be happy. Things will settle, and you and your Padawan will find your balance where it is best. The Council can take a flying leap if they don't like that, and I will tell them so personally.” Tahl's tone had grown heated, but she quickly checked herself. She was tired, too; and so she forced her timbre to gentle. “We will find a way to help him. I know you will not leave his side. And I think he finally knows that as well, which is most important.”  
  
Just then, the Noorian's comlink beeped; and excusing herself, she strode outside of Obi-Wan's room to take the call.  
  
“ _How_ low!?” Echoed from the short hallway just outside the boy's open door. “You've got to be joking.”  
  
Tahl stuck her head around the jamb, and Qui-Gon made it to her in a single stride, his face pale.  
  
“What was Obi-Wan's 'chlorian count when he was identified?” she whispered. And feeling the change in Qui-Gon's Force pressure, she backed away, blinking, nearly stepping them out into the hall as the big man hovered worriedly over her.  
  
“Thirteen thousand, four hundred,” Qui-Gon replied softly, volume respectful of his Padawan's slumber.  
  
“He's sitting at about six thousand right now,” Tahl murmured. “Bant says they were being generous.”  
  
“That's less than—”  
  
“—The Order won't take them for training unless they are seven thousand or above,” Tahl said glumly. “But he hasn't had enough food or rest yet. We're still in process with that. We shouldn't panic.”

The Noorian looked like she was panicking.  
  
The chance that Obi-Wan would no longer be able to train as a Jedi hung in the air between the two Masters like a lead weight; and Tahl heard rather than saw Qui-Gon's stifled sigh.  
  
“I will have faith,” the big Jedi said, cupping the Noorian's face tenderly as he gathered himself, the gesture sorrowful, but thankful.

And she responded to him quickly, turning to smile against his palm; grateful for the change in mood.  
  
“You had better, because once Obi-Wan has recovered, you will never have a peaceful moment again.”  
  
“Thank you, Tahl.”  
  
“You're welcome, Jinn. We will find a way.”  
  
~*~  
  
       Long after Tahl had departed, Qui-Gon paced the meditation area of his living quarters. Obi-Wan was still sleeping peacefully, or at least, nearest the Master could tell. Their bond barely worked unless one or the other of them was hanging on it. And in this moment, he was thankful for that; for he faced a particularly dark fear of his, and did not wish to share it.

Not only did he sometimes feel that he was unworthy to care for an apprentice; but now he feared that he had permanently broken a bright and gifted boy. Six thousand. Six. Thousand.  
  
Bant had been right. He had been hurting Obi-Wan. In so many ways. Recalling his Padawan's face when he set his arm, Qui-Gon felt sick to his stomach and had to slump to the couch. He knew he should not give in to doubt and fear. But he was tired, too. And while he had not meant for it to happen, he had no more than tilted his head  against the sofa when his eyes closed against his will; his body claiming the sleep it was long overdue for.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan woke in the morning light, and was utterly confused. He knew he had to be in the Temple, as he was surrounded by the scent and sounds of the building itself. But where was he, exactly? It was not his bunk in his dorm room, nor the library or salle halls. Sitting up, he found that his body ached in an odd way, and that … he had the stone Qui-Gon had given him clutched tightly in his hand. Qui-Gon!  
  
The night before washed vaguely back to him, along with the realization that he could not touch the Force as he once used to. But the stone was reassuringly warm in his hand, and he could almost … brush the power that emanated from it. Or at least, it seemed easier than it had yesterday. Slipping the rock back into his robe pocket, he tried to gather his wits.  
  
Yesterday. Today. That meant … he was in Xanatos' old room. He was in Qui-Gon's quarters, and judging from the light filtering through the drawn curtains, it was late morning. Obi-Wan had been supposed to do something. To … meet with Master Windu! Today was his re-dedication day with Master Windu!

Making a sound of horror, Obi-Wan tangled in his blankets while trying to escape them. Then in his panicked attempt to right himself, he nearly knocked himself out on the edge of the nightstand. But leaning on that very same table helped him to gain his feet; and while he felt as knock-kneed as a freshly hatched Acklay, he managed to find his boots. Qui-Gon had helped him to take them off last night; he did remember that, and he blushed belatedly in embarrassment, adding to his fluster.  
  
He had no chrono on; that was in his pack that he had dropped at the main door to Qui-Gon's living quarters, but he knew he was already desperately late. And looking down he moaned in despair. He had not washed or pressed his robes in … he had no idea when, and judging by feel he had been sleeping in them for a great while. It wasn't that the fabric couldn't take the abuse. It was that he had not only forgotten about—and was late for—a day that might decide his probation status, but he smelled like a Jawa and he could guess that he looked like he had been backed over by a Sandcrawler. Twice.  
  
Personal problems were no excuse for tardiness, and Obi-Wan would not risk Qui-Gon being criticized for his Padawan's ineptness. So shoving his feet into his boots, he determinedly tried to pull himself together. Of course, that would have been easier to do if he had not been struggling to open the door to Xanatos' room. It was a difficult task when he was weaving like a drunk, and he missed the pressure plate twice before succeeding. Without full use of the Force, Obi-Wan's body felt ungainly and alien to him. And it showed.  
  
“Obi-Wan, good morning,” Qui-Gon said warmly, watching the boy lean against the hallway wall and try to re-learn how to walk.  
  
“Good … morning, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, voice raspy with exhaustion, and surprise. Qui-Gon would normally be off teaching classes right now, and the apprentice had hoped his brilliant mistake would go unnoticed. Unfortunately, it did not seem that fate was with him today; for the big Master also seemed to have just woken, and was nested rather comfortably on the living quarters' couch.  
  
Right where he could keep protective watch on Obi-Wan's door.  
  
“I was thinking that I might join you for early meal, and I believe that Bant would love to see you. She worries.” Qui-Gon's eyes were kind, but they were studying his apprentice's every move. Analyzing. “You also have time to visit the 'fresher, you know. And I did get around to acquiring you a spare set of robes. Perhaps that would be of use to you?”  
  
Obi-Wan's mouth hung open slightly, not sure if he should argue, say 'thank you', or just explode from confusion.  
  
“I was supposed to meet Master Windu,” was what eventually came out.  
  
Well. That had put his foot in it. So much for subtlety.  
  
Qui-Gon chuckled, reading Obi-Wan like a book. “I have told Master Windu that you needed to reschedule. Wash up, put on some clean robes—they are on top of your wardrobe—and we will make sure you get something to eat.”  
  
The Padawan blinked owlishly in the light of the Coruscant morning, feeling a twinge of pain beginning in his head as he tried to process what that statement might mean. Master Windu had already been here looking for him? Was he dismissed? No. Qui-Gon would not have allocated him another set of robes if he was to be shipped off. Nor would he have placed him in Xanatos' old room. But what could his mentor possibly have told Master Windu to get him to agree to reschedule?  
  
“I do not want to be a bother. I ate last night, Master. Your portion, and mine. I'm still full; I don't even feel hungry,” Obi-Wan said, trying to smile bravely and alleviate some of Qui-Gon's concern. He could see the unspoken strain etched into that noble face, and wondered if he was already responsible for some of the big Master's gray hairs.  
  
“Allow me to rephrase my previous statement,” Qui-Gon said firmly, expression sobering. “You will wash, put on clean clothes, and meet me back here in twenty minutes. Then you and I will take our morning meal together, and you will spend the day by my side.”  
  
Once again, Obi-Wan did not know what to say. But this time, what left his mouth was “Yes, Master,” which seemed to produce a much more satisfied Qui-Gon Jinn.  
  
Oh, what had he gotten himself into now?  
  
~*~  
  
       It had taken Obi-Wan longer than twenty minutes to get ready for the day. This meant that he and his Master had been late enough to miss the morning rush to the cafeteria. And Obi-Wan's friends. Which partially, the boy did not mind. He had not wanted to explain what had happened to him, nor where he had been. But he had also slept a great deal, and felt he had missed out on goings-on which they might have filled him in on.  
  
But no. Obi-Wan Kenobi was an idiot. And was late. And couldn't seem to function properly. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that his companions wouldn't have been able to say anything anyway, not with Qui-Gon sitting across from them. But he was especially worried about Bant, as she had been up late helping to take care of him. He hoped she wasn't too tired, and he wanted to thank her.  
  
However, as he took another bite of **Panna cake, he could not help but think there was an upside to being so tardy. There was more variety to what was being served, and in greater quantity, because it had to be eaten before it went off. Obi-Wan wondered if—based on size—Qui-Gon had survived, and thrived, off of that very tactic. The staff here seemed to know him rather well, and he wondered if this was one of the myriad things a Master taught an apprentice.  
  
Speaking of which, Qui-Gon was watching him again. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but he was definitely being sized up. Obi-Wan knew that there was something that his Master was not telling him, but he avoided the matter; Focusing on his meal instead.  
  
And Obi-Wan had been hungrier than he had thought.  
  
This was his second tray.  
  
“I thought you weren't hungry,” Qui-Gon said, the hint of a true smile lighting up those blue-gray eyes.  
  
“I wasn't, until I smelled food,” Obi-Wan replied apologetically. He could feel it, then. Just the barest whisper of the Force pressing against him. Had Qui-Gon been pushing him all this time, and he had only just noticed? Of course. The other had wanted to know just how much sensitivity he had lost.  
  
Qui-Gon's eyebrow shot up in the same instant that a look of shame crossed Obi-Wan's face.  
  
“I can feel you. I just can't respond. I know you were probably nudging me for a while. I'm sorry ...” Obi-Wan's voice broke, and he finished the last of the food on his tray in one bite. It was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat, but he managed. He had to pretend that his Force-muteness didn't hurt. His Master needed to know what had happened, and to what extent. Qui-Gon wasn't trying to test him so much as evaluate the depth of a wound, and calling on his memories from the night before, the Padawan did the best he could to calm his fears.  
  
Normally, when Obi-Wan reached in to find his center, the Force would well up like a fountain, and he could let it roll through him in a wave that helped heal and calm him. But since the incident with the mind-wipe droid, that upwelling had rapidly become a mere trickle; and it grew slower every day. Which was why he was surprised to feel … something, now. Whether it was Qui-Gon's energy or his own, he couldn't say. But it was something.  
  
“That is better than it was last night,” the big Jedi said reassuringly, reaching out to put one large, warm hand on top of Obi-Wan's. “I am not impatient. I believe you will heal, and that with support, you will be back to yourself again in no time. Do not be humiliated. I know what you are normally capable of.”  
  
Obi-Wan managed a hesitant smile at that. It wasn't that he didn't trust Qui-Gon, it was that he still felt that he did not deserve his support. “My finger. Someone tested me last night. I have a mark?” Obi-Wan asked, holding up the index finger on his free hand. It was a question and statement in one, since he did not know how to ask without sounding accusatory.  
  
Qui-Gon's face sobered as he studied the tiny red pin-prick. “I see I cannot get anything by you,” he apologized. “You were sleeping and I did not want to wake you. We tested your Midi-chlorian count, Tahl needed the results for the research she was doing.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Obi-Wan. I do not think this is something we should speak about in the open. I have reserved a private sparring room for us in the salle hall,” Qui-Gon said gravely.  
  
***The walls of the private halls were padded and shielded against noise, impact, and Force echoes. Cloistered combat, meditation, or conversations were all possible within such a space, and they could only be reserved by a Master. Qui-Gon had seemingly anticipated everything. And Obi-Wan had thought he had been prepared for the worst, but his heart felt like it had plummeted to his feet. Well. There was no sense in avoiding it any longer. Nodding slowly, he rose, and Qui-Gon did the same. Keeping his expression as serene as he could make it, the apprentice then fell into step with his Master.  
  
It could have been embarrassing for Obi-Wan; his body was still sluggish, and aching. And in such a state he could have had difficulty keeping up with Qui-Gon's long legs. But his Master seemed to understand that, and he did not take such lengthy strides or push him for pace. To anyone else it would have seemed tranquil; the Master and apprentice spending time between obligations. But inside, Obi-Wan was all but ready to climb out of his skin.  
  
~*~  
  
       It was Anoon Bondara who met the two Jedi at the salle hall entrance, which was more than slightly overwhelming for an already overwrought Obi-Wan. Naturally, the instructor was concerned about one of his students; and had insisted on looking at the boy's arm. And only when the Twi'lek was content that the injury was properly healed had he let Qui-Gon and his apprentice near the room reserved for them. Of course, Master Bondara had heard about Obi-Wan's … incident. The Padawan who had beaten him into the dirt had been the 'Saber Master's learner, ****Darsha Assant. But the Twi'lek was giving Qui-Gon a sidelong glance, not Obi-Wan. And the expression on his face was one that the big man's apprentice found unsettling.  
  
~*~  
  
       When the door to the private room had finally closed, and Qui-Gon had turned the black-out curtains and activated the shields, Obi-Wan slid into a seated meditative posture near one of the corners. His heart was still beating much too fast. He had feared that Master Bondara would have sensed how weak his connection with the Force had become. But he had not. Or if he had, he had somehow believed Qui-Gon responsible, and that made the boy's heart hurt for his Master. This wasn't Qui-Gon's fault. It wasn't. “You can tell me,” he finally murmured, sensing without looking up that Qui-Gon was standing in the center of the room, studying him again. And probably looking as lost as Obi-Wan felt.  
  
“Your Midi-chlorian count was barely over six thousand,” Qui-Gon finally stated. There was a slump to his shoulders that spoke of defeat, even if the words were gentle, and nearly neutral.  
  
Obi-Wan was still. So still that he could feel the heat of the stone Qui-Gon had given him radiating in his pocket. But he _could_ feel it. Which meant that not everything was lost.  
  
“I won't give up,” he finally replied, even though he felt like crying and his voice trembled.  
  
“And I am not giving up on you. Even if the Council says you are no longer to be trained, even if you are not powerful enough to do as you once did, you will still be my Padawan. I will teach you. I have promised you this, and I have faith in you. Midi-chlorian count isn't always a direct indicator of how strong a Jedi can become.”  
  
Obi-Wan tried to respond, but the lump in his throat had grown to enormous proportions. All he could do was try to breathe, to not let the hurt become all he was. But it felt dangerously close to happening, and he still could not grasp his center.  
  
And that was when his Master did something he could never have expected. Shaking his head as if stepping out of a trance, Qui-Gon made his way to the control panel and dimmed the lights. He then pressed a set of buttons that raised a large meditation platform in the center of the room. Wordlessly, he strode over and sat to one side of the dais, back to the door. And he angled himself toward Obi-Wan, still slumped in his corner.  
  
“Sit with me,” he invited.  
  
And even though Obi-Wan's body and mind protested, even though he felt clumsy, he made his way obediently to the platform. Having the lights dimmed had helped, but he was still a raw nerve, severed and begging for its connection back. And everything felt like it was too much, and not enough all at once.  
  
“Sit, and face me,” Qui-Gon ordered.  
  
And Obi-Wan obeyed. Suddenly, the boy was reminded of when he had taken youngling classes with Master Yoda. It had been the simplest of games that they had played then, and he wondered no more when Qui-Gon produced a small glass ball from his pocket.  
  
“What?” he whispered, shocked.  
  
Concentrating on the Force, Qui-Gon seemed to have rested the sphere on top of thin air. It hovered there for a time, rotating slowly before floating toward Obi-Wan.  
  
It was a game of control. It was a child's game. And it was … oddly soothing.  
  
“Go on,” Qui-Gon murmured. “See if you can take it from me.”  
  
And to his surprise, Obi-Wan found that he was able to reach out through the Force, if only minutely, and spin the ball in the opposite direction. He could not push it back toward Qui-Gon, not yet, but he could keep it hovering, even when his Master's energy receded.  
  
“That's it,” Qui-Gon encouraged.  
  
It took far more effort than it should have, but eventually Obi-Wan was able to force-push the ball back. And while the path it took was slightly erratic, Qui-Gon was able to cradle it effortlessly.

Then send it back to him again.

For how long the two played that simple game, Obi-Wan did not know. But there was a sense of triumph growing between them when every pass of the glass orb became easier. Obi-Wan had forgotten his fear and pain for a time. And tentative though it had been, he was eventually able to direct the Force on his own.  
  
Of course, he was quickly tiring. And Qui-Gon sensed this, allowing his Padawan to end on a positive note. And when he took the ball away, pocketing it again, Obi-Wan was much calmer.  
  
The Jedi then offered out his hands, and at first the boy did not know what to do. Hesitantly, he erred on the side of placing his smaller palms against his Master's, and Qui-Gon pulled him closer until their knees were touching.  
  
“Let it move through us,” Qui-Gon said, just before joining them as he had the night previous.  
  
That green, glowing energy left Qui-Gon and crested over Obi-Wan. And to the big Master's surprise, the boy was able to let it flow through him, then push it back: creating a circle of Force energy. Of course Obi-Wan had little to contribute, but in that moment the bond between them opened minutely.  
  
/Like this?/ Obi-Wan's soft voice echoed in Qui-Gon's mind.  
  
/Just like this./ Qui-Gon replied mentally, surprised to say the least. Even if they had to be touching to do so, they could still communicate, and the Master was careful not to push too hard. This was the most basic of exercises, but it was the very foundation of trust. He had set aside time this day to see what could be done to repair the damage done.  
  
/It doesn't hurt this time,/ Obi-Wan's telepathic voice was almost breathy with excitement.  
  
/It should never hurt. You are my apprentice. I respect you. I trust you. And this bond between us is to keep us connected and safe. I will never use it to pry into your memories./  
  
Qui-Gon felt the shudder that ran through Obi-Wan's body as he fought back the dark recollection of his captivity and torture, just as the big man thought he might. It was true the wording had been a test. But he was not prepared for how quickly things changed between himself and his Padawan. The bond grew muted. Almost wary. And then it stopped dead, and it was as if Qui-Gon had hit a mental and physical wall.  
  
So that was it.  
  
Perhaps it was not that Obi-Wan was damaged, so much as he had unintentionally shut down or burned parts of the bridge that pain had walked across in the past. The boy himself had cut off their connection in his grief and suffering. To keep from losing his memories, he had to close down the internal pathway that the mind-wipe droid had run rampant along. And as water took the easiest course, their fledgling bond had been a simple enough attack point. But since he suspected that Obi-Wan had no more idea of how he obstructed their bond than Qui-Gon did, he would not badger him. But this discovery did answer some important questions. First had come the injury. Then the hidden wound. Then the decline.  
  
“You are shaking,” the Master murmured into the quiet of the room. Obi-Wan's breathing had grown raspy, and his hands were no longer resting in the big Jedi's palms, but clutching.  
  
“It hurts. It hurts, and I can't make it stop,” Obi-Wan whispered, his tone distant, and not entirely in the moment with Qui-Gon.  
  
“We will make it stop. Come here,” the Master whispered before pulling the boy to his shoulder again, holding him safe. His apprentice was brave. Brave and strong, even though he didn't know it.  
  
“I am not hurting you?” Qui-Gon verified, feeling the shudders wracking his too-thin apprentice.  
  
“No, Master.”  
  
“You shut down our bond.”  
  
“I … didn't mean to.”  
  
“I know. Did you feel the instant that the Force stopped flowing between us; when the light went out and we could no longer share thoughts?”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
“What were you thinking of in that moment?”  
  
There was a long, leery pause before Obi-Wan finally answered him. As if he did not know if he could, or should. But when the words came forth, they twisted in Qui-Gon's heart like a knife.  
  
“The way the light went out in her eyes. And I was alone. She was the only thing left of the Force I could touch, and she took it with her. No one cared that I was hurt or lost. No one wanted me, and I had nowhere to go. I couldn't find anything … I couldn't find any light left. There was nothing good left in the galaxy. My head hurts. I can't breathe.”  
  
“Let your emotions pass through you. Let them out. Let them flow with Force. It is still there for you, and so is she. Let all the good memories you have of her, and the dreams you dreamed with her come forward. She did not break the future for you, but made it.”  
  
Of course, Qui-Gon knew instantly who Obi-Wan had been talking about. He had wondered if the boy would ever speak of Cerasi. And it showed great trust that he was allowing his Master to see some of what had come to pass when he had been so secretive before.  
  
“She wanted peace. She wanted peace, Master, and she took mine with her!” Obi-Wan growled, anger beginning to rise with his grief as he clung to the big Jedi's shoulder.  
  
The profound simplicity of that statement nearly stole Qui-Gon's breath. “I know you are angry. You have every right to be. But do not let it consume you. You are better than that. You are a Jedi. And things are not easy now, but they will get better.”  
  
A strong hand came up to cup the back of Obi-Wan's head, helping to soothe the headache Qui-Gon felt raging there. And he continued to hold the boy until his breathing had calmed again. Until the influence of the Dark Side loosened its grip.  
  
“Rest.”  
  
It was once again a Force suggestion, and not a request. Obi-Wan did need to face his pain, but he had done enough for now. Stressing his mind and body would take the both of them backwards.  
  
Obi-Wan went completely limp, breathing still stuffy with unshed tears. And Qui-Gon guided him down to the cushions of the dais.  
  
He would let the boy rest for a while, and then they would begin again; this time with simple katas and form training exercises. And if they were lucky, Qui-Gon might even get Obi-Wan to spar lightly with him. Assuming, of course, he had not moved too quickly or already asked too much. It was hard to tell. Obi-Wan always gave everything he had. But right now, the big Master suspected that his apprentice was dangerously close to running on empty.  
  
And already Qui-Gon was wracking his mind for a way to refuel Obi-Wan. To give him back some peace. Though the big man was not sure that he could. The first long stare into the abyss did not come with the warnings that it should. Primarily being, that it stared back just as eagerly.  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
A/N:  
  
* When you see Qui-Gon send the sample of blood he takes from Anakin, he uses one of these puppies: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Hush-98_comlink but in order to get a sample you need something to A: take it and B: process your data before you send it. Since things are sort of simply named in Star wars, I more-or-less invented something lame. If there really is a proper term for this little beastie, please tell me and I will correct my text. But so far, I'm finding nothing. So I'mma do my own thing :D  
  
"Why does Qui-Gon care about what Bant thinks." Bant nearly became Qui-Gon's Padawan instead of Obi-Wan. She is Obi-Wan's best friend. And thus, Qui-Gon cares for her the same way he does Obi-Wan. I think she and Obi-Wan remind him of his relationship with Tahl when he was their age (though slightly less competitive). And as she is kind and empathetic, I am using her as a barometer for the thoughts and feelings of the temple as a whole (using her as a literary device. I am sorry T_T). How Bant perceives Qui-Gon is more or less the collective feelings of the temple towards him. It's not that he isn't a rebel and used to people disapproving of what he does. But the Order is his family, and it hurts to feel ostracized. It hurts to be reminded that he screwed up in their eyes, and keeps screwing up. It also helps him empathize with Obi-Wan ^_~  
  
"Why do you insist on reminding us that Tahl is blind! You ableist jerk!" Tahl has only recently become blind. She still has mannerisms left over from when she could see, and pointing them out makes her a more relatable and interesting character. It also reminds a reader that she has had to learn new ways to process information and her senses. Which makes her a wonderful help for Obi-Wan at this point in the story.  
  
** Panna Cakes: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Panna_cake I know that Dex served them at his diner, and that Besalisks are supposed to be those who can ingest them safely. However, I assume there is a human and or synthesized human friendly version. Obviously this is a play on "Pancakes." And after reading an angry rant about the "pancake trope epidemic in Fanfic" on Tumblr other day, I just had to get in on the offensive action.  
  
*** I am making up bullshit places in the temple because It amuses me. Hush. I love my delusions. :D  
  
**** I realize that the age difference is probably Darsha over Obi-Wan, but it works for my purposes to have her two years younger than him. I'm bending canon pretty badly here. But I like it! It lets me include her, and her master.  
  
"I'm counting how many times Qui-Gon knocks Obi-Wan out with the Force!" You and me both, my friend. But Jedi won't take Xanax, so Qui-Gon has to do what he can do :D  
  
Disclaimer: I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. Thank you for reading ~  
  
Alpha Reader: All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
Beta Credit: All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
Zeta Reader: All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter Four:**  
  
       Obi-Wan woke by degrees. He was warm and comfortable, and the Force was humming through his body. The world around him felt solid again because of that connection, and for the first time in several days he did not feel clumsy. Just sleepy.  
  
The next thing that registered was that there was a strong hand stroking his hair; and a patch of it behind his ear felt different from the rest. Cautiously he reached up, touching the longer strands that had been growing for some time, waiting for someone to ... braid them. His scalp felt tight because his ear-tail had been braided! His questing fingers bumped his Master's, and his surprised blue eyes snapped open.  
  
“Easy, Padawan. Did you rest well?” Qui-Gon's cultured voice soothed.  
  
Obi-Wan blinked in confusion, trying to get his vision to focus. His headache was gone, and even though his face felt stiff from holding back his tears, he was much calmer. Qui-Gon helped him to sit up, and he took a few moments to get his bearings. They were still in their private hall. The lights were dimmed, and there was a warm indent where his thin form had been curled up in the cushions and pillows.  
  
“How long have I been sleeping?” Obi-Wan asked, reverently stroking the braid that Qui-Gon had given him. His touch was hesitant, though. As if such a thing was not really meant to be for him, or would be taken back in an instant.  
  
“Only a short time,” the big Master replied, watching the wonder that crossed Obi-Wan's face as he touched the thin, red cord that bound the end of his plait. The first notch. “Do you like it?”  
  
Qui-Gon had been waiting for just the right time to do this. And the opportunity had finally presented itself. Everything he and Obi-Wan had done had been in reverse, and he felt that now more than ever, the boy needed to know that he was wanted. A Padawan's braid symbolized the twining of fate, and the beginning of a bond. It indicated the genesis of trust and the support of a teacher. Further bands of color would be added to the plait as Obi-Wan grew more experienced, much like the changing colors of a martial artist's belt as they increased in rank.  
  
“You can tell me the truth. I will never punish you for sharing your feelings with me,” the big man encouraged, reading his apprentice's hesitance.  
  
Obi-Wan knew that this was right. He had dreamed of this day for a very long time, for it was such a large step in a young Jedi's life. What he had not expected was for a flood of ambivalence to wash over him at the same time. He was already in poor standing with the Order, and he did not want to drag Qui-Gon down in his own ineptitude. He wasn't even sure they were allowed to train together without the Council's approval, let alone cement their bond. After all, he was still on probation …

He did not know what to say.  
  
His heart was hammering in his chest when he looked up to Qui-Gon, and he took a slow breath in. Oh, how he did not want to do the wrong thing. Especially when he could still feel his Master's energy surging through him, helping to ground him in the Living Force. But when their gazes met, and the apprentice felt his own faint energy answer to Qui-Gon's, it galvanized him to speak.

Or at least he thought it had, because the moment the words tried to leave his lips, he faltered.  
  
“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon began, giving his apprentice a verbal nudge. The boy had been about to reply when he had frozen up. The Master suspected this was what Bant had meant about losing confidence. And it pained the gentle Jedi to see it, but he hoped the newfound behavior would improve with time and trust.  
  
“I'm sorry, Master,” Obi-Wan finally replied, trying to let go of his fear.

And resolving that he would not hurt Qui-Gon like he had hurt Bant, the young apprentice reached down inside to nudge his center; discovering that he could grasp it just enough to find the words he needed.  
  
“I have wanted this badly, and for so long. Even when I was a youngling, I wished to be your Padawan. I did not know you, and Masters came to look and went. But always it was you I felt drawn to, and no other. I know I lost myself in the fear of becoming a farmer on Bandomeer. I lost myself in my jealousy, when you paid compliments to Bant and not me. She deserved them, and I did not. I knew you could do better than me. And yet I could not shake the feeling that I was meant to be with you. It was not attachment, greed, or even childish idolization. It was the Force. Pure and simple. I know I cannot sense things as I should right now. And I don't know if I will ever be as sensitive to the Living Force as you. But sometimes I know things, and I cannot explain how. That is why when everything ended on Melida/Daan, I came back. Not just because I was wrong, and fate threw us together once again. It was because I was meant to be by your side. I was born for just that purpose, and I fought hard to get here. This moment means so much to me, especially now, considering everything that has come to pass. But I am afraid that in my condition I will burden you, and that I do not deserve this honor. Or that I cannot fulfill my pledge to you ...”  
  
“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon interrupted. The boy fell silent, looking relieved to be able to stop talking, and the big Master reached out to cup his chin. “You are too hard on yourself, Padawan. That can become a fault if you are not careful. Anger at oneself is a destructive thing. And while I know you think I could be doing something more productive—and with a more worthy apprentice—you need to realize that this is where I am meant to be. Just like you. These are valuable lessons I could never glean from meditation or a book. And I am learning them by your side. Dedication. Patience. Perseverance. Empathy. And I will remind you as many times as I must that I am not allowing you to quit. So do not even consider it. You will be a fine Jedi Knight.”  
  
The big man reached out and gave Obi-Wan's new braid a tug.  
  
“Now, do you feel well enough to join me in a kata or two?”  
  
Obi-Wan was impressed at the relief he felt. Qui-Gon had a way of righting things between them in the simplest of manners. A joke here, a wry look there. His Master wasn't going to let him give up. And the simple act of lightsaber practice and some basic martial arts did sound good, moreover exactly like what he needed. Besides, his arm was mended; and he was certain he had enough control to … hopefully not make a fool of himself in front of Qui-Gon.  
  
~*~  
  
       It was as simple as breathing; and even if Obi-Wan could not feel the Force as he had in the past, he could sense Qui-Gon's signature in it. This allowed him to fall back into the rhythm that had once been between them. The apprentice's every move was either simultaneous, or instinctively mirrored his Master's. And when he ended up exactly where he needed to be in the space of the sparring room, exactly when he needed to be there, he could feel Qui-Gon's approval. He could _feel_ it! And that scrap of progress further emboldened him.  
  
The two Jedi had converted their borrowed hall for combat. The lights had been brought up, the dais had been lowered to make space, sunlight was streaming in through the open blinds of the window behind them; and to Obi-wan, the Temple somehow seemed brighter than it had previously. The sky was azure above the smog of Coruscant, leaving the boy feeling something like joy bubbling up in his heart.  
  
His muscles knew this dance, his heart beat in time with his Master's, and he felt the Force begin to move inside of him as if in celebration. Little by little, the soft blue light that was uniquely his began to trickle back. It was only a tiny amount, but it was enough to give him insight into when his Master was switching to armed combat. And when Obi-Wan drew and ignited his lightsaber at the same instant as Qui-Gon did, it won him a proud smile.  
  
A heartbeat later, 'saber crackled against 'saber, and the fancy footwork of one of the smoother lightsaber katas began between Master and apprentice. As he stepped into a lunge, Obi-Wan could not help musing that there was little divergence between some martial arts and the study of dance. The only difference here was that the music between the two Jedi was buried in the nuances of the Force, and while the song was silent to most, it was beautiful to Obi-Wan because it was written for them alone.  
  
Each stroke of their sabers penned another note.  
  
The fact that he could sense signatures again meant that something was changing. And after parrying a few more scripted thrusts, Obi-Wan realized with a jolt that he could not only hear the music, but _see_ it. Perhaps it was because he had been without his connection to the Force for so long, or maybe it was a side effect of Qui-Gon sharing his energy. But Obi-Wan could physically see the Living Force.

And feeling the surge in the bond he shared with his apprentice, Qui-Gon gave the boy a questioning look.  
  
But Obi-Wan just shook his head. He had once heard this anomaly described—by Master Yoda no less—but had never suspected a mere learner like himself might grasp such minutia of the Force. This sort of ability was for Masters, Council members, and seers. Yet here it was, whether Obi-Wan thought himself worthy of the ability or not.  
  
Ribbons of the Force were rippling around the two Jedi in a silent wind. His Master's threads were vibrant, green, and thick, while his own were pale blue and wispy. And rather suddenly Obi-Wan realized how to interpret what he was seeing. One of Qui-Gon's threads moved, and the apprentice rolled neatly to the side, then dove to turn away a sharp thrust from the big Jedi. That hadn't been part of the kata, and Qui-Gon looked smug.  
  
/Padawan?/  
  
/I'm fine, Master./  
  
/Then you won't mind dropping the kata and sparring with me./  
  
Obi-Wan was so entranced by what he was seeing that his Master's warning didn't sink in. And he panicked when Qui-Gon first charged him, taking broad, sweeping strokes that were easy enough to turn aside. But after his initial scramble, the boy's fear did not last. The onslaught gave him a chance to study the movements of the ribbons, and the way they coincided with his Master's form. It was fascinating, and he was glad Qui-Gon had taken him at his word, because he was not ready to stop for the day.  
  
Not yet. Not when he could finally reach the Force again, and there was a whole new dimension of that universe to explore.  
  
~*~  
  
       Anoon Bondara had a hand on his hip, and he was watching the combat playing out before him with wonder. Whatever Qui-Gon had done, it was working. Obi-Wan had always been skillful with a lightsaber, but he had never found joy in battle. Many of the Jedi Knights the 'Saber Master had trained had felt that way. But some … some blossomed into their passions late. And he wondered if that was the case here.  
  
His apprentice, Darsha, stood beside him, her posture unintentionally mimicking his.  
  
He tilted his head toward her, a lekku twitching in amusement. “Are you sure this is the one you defeated in training?”  
  
Darsha nodded, mouth slightly open as she stared. “We really shouldn't be watching.”  
  
“The privacy blinds are open, and I do not think we are the only ones,” the Twi'lek said, glancing to his right and left where Masters, learners, and Padawans alike had stopped to look.  
  
“I think I owe Obi-Wan an apology,” Darsha finally admitted.  
  
“As I believe I owe one to Master Jinn. So you are in good company,” Anoon said, reaching out to rest a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.  
  
“Did you really think Qui-Gon was at fault for what happened to Obi-Wan?” she asked quietly.  
  
“I worried that might be true. But now I see I was mistaken,” the saber Master said.  
  
“I will pass my notes from class to Bant, and she can give them to Obi-Wan to copy. He has missed several days now. I was worrying that something was wrong, or that I had truly wounded him. I admit that during our sparring session, I was only thinking of victory, not his safety. And that was my failing. But you … you were believing the Temple rumor mill,” she chided, though her tone was teasing.  
  
“I did. I believed the whispers, that Qui-Gon Jinn was failing another Padawan, and that Obi-Wan Kenobi had been lost to us forever. I, too, was wrong.”  
  
~*~  
  
       Qui-Gon's eyes studied Obi-Wan as the boy laughed with his friends. He had been able to meet up with them for late meal, and they were enjoying the improvement in his mood. The change in his apprentice had been drastic, even if the wounds were far from healed. And Qui-Gon … the big man was trying not to hover two tables away. His Padawan could go from clinging close to needing space in a heartbeat, and the big man did not want to smother him. Only to help.  
  
“If you think much harder, your beard will catch on fire,” a smooth and familiar voice came from beside Qui-Gon.  
  
“Mace!” the big Master exclaimed, looking up to give his friend a smile. The issue of growing facial hair had been a bone of friendly contention between the two since a rather strange incident on the Outer Rim. Not that there was ever anything ordinary about Jedi missions; but if Mace was around, some very interesting things could happen.  
  
“Jinn,” Mace acknowledged, sitting beside Qui-Gon. It did not take his gaze long to fall to Obi-Wan, no matter how the other Master tried to redirect him by staring at a nearby potted Gorsa tree. “The plant is not that fascinating. Stop trying to lead me away from him. I'm on your side. I'm on Obi-Wan's side, too.”  
  
Qui-Gon let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding as he turned to glance at his old friend.

And hearing that sigh of relief, Mace quickly added one caveat. “But don't … tell me everything. I don't want to have to report it to the Council. I see things are improving, though.”  
  
Obi-Wan was laughing again; and he only stopped when Reeft, taking advantage of the distraction, took a tart off of his human friend's plate.  
  
Bant mimed stabbing the Dressellian in the back of the hand with her fork, and immediately the tart was returned.  
  
Mace observed this exchange with mild amusement.  
  
“There is not much to report, my friend. But Tahl has been very helpful in getting to the bottom of things. How long do we have before the trial?” Qui-Gon asked. The big Master would have seemed impassive to anyone else, but those who truly knew him would have noticed that his cup of tea was cold and forgotten. Which rarely ever happened. Qui-Gon was a tea aficionado.  
  
“A few days at the most. I can see how much longer I can stall, if it helps. Besides, every time I push the date back it aggravates the Clerk of Courts to no end, and I really do not care for her. So it does me a favor, too.”  
  
Qui-Gon knew Mace was joking. The legendary Master was seldom overtly rude to anyone, but he was also known for his tenacious negotiation skills. Qui-Gon could see how that might have caused some friction in a work environment, especially for someone whose job consisted primarily of scheduling.  
  
“I appreciate it. If … when, Obi-Wan receives the summons, would you let me tell him? It would be easier, I think.”  
  
“You're a good man, Qui-Gon. I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do. I also need to meet with Obi-Wan soon for his re-dedication, or risk raising the suspicions of the Council. He's still on thin ice.”  
  
“Tomorrow, I think. Let him get a little more rest. Then, gradually, I should like to return him to his classes. He was attending too many, and he stretched himself much too thin.” Qui-Gon was frowning in disapproval, mainly at himself.  
  
“I could put him in your classes,” Mace said wryly.  
  
“I don't think ancient literature would be something that he would enjoy,” Qui-Gon's frown deepened.  
  
“Maybe he would. Besides, you could keep a better eye on him during the day.”  
  
That particular statement earned Mace a glare.  
  
“But in all seriousness, Qui-Gon. Yoda has noticed him sleeping on any flat surface that is not his own bed. If the behavior continues it could raise more suspicion. There is already a rumor floating around the Temple … well, several. And I am not going to repeat them. But I am glad that you took the time to take your Padawan into hand. I worried you both might clash, but he seems lighter of heart than I have ever seen him; so I take back my portion of that grist for the rumor mill.”  
  
“I will take care of him, Mace.”  
  
“I know you will. Because someone has to take care of you.”  
  
And with that, Mace Windu was off on another important mission somewhere in the Temple. And Qui-Gon was left feeling a knot of dread swelling in his chest. He and Obi-Wan had just taken small steps forward, and he was more than slightly worried that this was going to put them back where they had started from, or worse. Especially since he did not have the heart to tell the boy about the upcoming trial, which was not only cowardly but dishonest.  
  
Then there was the matter of what had happened back in that training hall. Whether it was good or bad, his Padawan had not spoken of it, and Qui-Gon wondered what had come to pass. He had felt the change in his apprentice, but he would not push him about it. Obi-Wan could be very reserved and strict with his conduct at times. And the big Master knew that he would have to let the boy come to him.  
  
At least, Qui-Gon thought wryly, he knew that the Force was returning to his apprentice. And that was a relief.  
  
~*~  
  
       Bant's webbed fingers stroked Obi-Wan's braid, admiring and approving. And there was something contrite about the expression on her face.  
  
The two friends were sitting sideways on one of the long dining-hall benches. Reeft, Garen, and Darsha had just departed to their various errands within the Temple, leaving a stack of Durasheet class notes on the table in their wake.  
  
“I was wrong about Master Jinn,” the Mon Cala finally admitted.  
  
“What do you mean? Bant. You've always encouraged him and me—”  
  
“—No, I was awful to him when you were sick. I was so angry. I thought he was purposely hurting you. And I—I said so to anyone who would listen. The reason Master Bondara was looking at Qui-Gon like that was ... Well, you know what happened with Xanatos. I don't have to tell you. But when you came back, and the Council was so harsh, a few Masters raised their voices on your behalf. Then when you started to struggle, we all could see it. Not just your friends. I don't want to embarrass you telling you this, but just as the Temple was not blind to your betrayal, we were not ignorant to your suffering, either. And when Qui-Gon did not seem to be moving to help you, suspicions began to grow. One apprentice was a fluke. But two?”  
  
Obi-Wan wasn't angry; he was surprised. He had thought he would not be welcome back at the Temple, no excuses accepted. He admitted he had withdrawn from his pseudo-family and friends here, afraid of the continuing punishment. But now he was wondering if that had been a serious mistake, and had only driven him deeper into the depths of his despair.  
  
“Qui-Gon is a good Master, Bant. And there are times I think he should have chosen you instead of me. I forgive you. I probably would have felt the same way in your position.”  
  
Bant's luminous silver eyes were full of sadness when she shook her head.  
  
“Obi-Wan, I remember when we were both so much smaller, and you would watch Qui-Gon come and go from the Temple through the windows of the transport hall. You would sneak out of classes if you had to. You knew the two of you were meant to be together, and you longed for this. I might have known it before you did, but I hold no grudge for your upset regarding what happened with Master Jinn, or at the fountain.”  
  
Bruck.  
  
Obi-Wan grimaced. It always came back to Bruck.  
  
“Obi-Wan. There's something else I need to tell you. I'm not supposed to, and I know you might be angry at me for saying it. But I think you deserve to know. No one has said anything because you've been trying so hard to recover. Do you want me to?”  
  
Obi-Wan's stomach bottomed out, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling.  
  
“Will it get you in trouble with your Master?” the boy worried, stepping outside of himself for a moment. Whatever it was, Bant could be reprimanded for sharing what she had overheard. And it would be obvious where the leak came from. The two Padawans were close, and there would be no avoiding the blame.  
  
“No, I don't think so. Actually … she told me to tell you. She said you deserve to know, and I agree with her. It's worth the risk.”  
  
Obi-Wan's reserved nature warred with his need to plan for whatever was coming, and even though he was certain he would regret it, he finally nodded. “Okay. I won't say who told me. If it's so terrible and everyone already knows, I can appear to at least be trying to get ahead of the problem. And no one should fault me for that.”  
  
Bant reached out and took Obi-Wan's hands into her webbed ones, and her orange skin was pale with fear as she tried to find the right words.  
  
“Obi-Wan, Bruck Chun's father is pressing legal charges against the Order, and against you, for his son's death. The Council will convene in a few days, and then call you to stand trial.”  
  
The bottom of Obi-Wan's world felt like it fell out; and all he could do was sit there and stare at his friend.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan had made himself return to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon, and it was with great difficulty that he wrapped his dignity around himself, and took a shaky breath. His center was gone again, and peace seemed to have fled.  
  
He knew he would find Qui-Gon waiting for him. He had agreed to meet his Master later, and to stay in Xanatos' room tonight. And he would do both things. But he could not shake the bruised feeling in the pit of his stomach. Qui-Gon had been lying to him. Well, choosing to not say anything. A Master could get away with what truths to share, but Obi-Wan didn't have to like that particular disparity between their positions.  
  
At least he had been allowed this time with his friends, and he was glad that he and Bant had talked.  
  
And when Obi-Wan pressed his hand to the ID plate on the door, and it slid open to let him in, some of his frustration fled. The scene before him was almost quaint.  
  
Qui-Gon was sitting on the main living quarter's couch, buried in what appeared to be a pile of tests; and he was grading each one carefully. A red pen hung from the corner of his mouth as he frowned down at his task. The big man then looked up as his apprentice walked in.  
  
“Obi-Wan. I was meaning to speak with you, if you have a moment,” he stated.  
  
“You look a little busy. Perhaps later?” the boy asked, trying to keep the edge off of his tone. He was not supposed to know, and he did not want to get Bant into trouble; so this was something he would have to bear on his own.  
  
“Padawan, you look pale. Do you have another headache?” the big man asked.  
  
Sometimes Obi-Wan wished that Qui-Gon was not so kind, because right now he wanted to be angry with his Master. Instead he was touched the other cared how he felt.  
  
“I just ate too fast. I'll be fine. Maybe I should go lie down for a little while.”  
  
Those words made Qui-Gon drop the pen that had made its way from his mouth to his fingers, and stand, and just as he did, Obi-Wan had to bolt to the 'fresher to be sick.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan rested his forehead on his arm as he hugged the rim of the refresher, panting for air. He had wanted to apologize for leaving mid-conversation, but he found he did not have to. Qui-Gon was kneeling behind him and pressing a cool cloth to the nape of his neck, one broad hand supporting his chest so that he was not draped so painfully over the porcelain.  
  
“What happened?” the big Master asked, obviously trying not to push or pry, but not really having a choice.  
  
“I found out,” Obi-Wan rasped, spitting to clear his mouth of the taste of bile. So much for secrecy.  
  
“Oh, Padawan. I am so sorry,” Qui-Gon said after a very long pause.  
  
“Don't be. 'Smy fault,” Obi-Wan groaned, feeling another wave of nausea wash over him. He could still feel Bruck's fingertips brush past his, and then jolt away into nothingness. He pressed his eyes miserably closed, and refused to allow himself to cry. It wasn't going to fix anything, anyway.  
  
“It wasn't your fault. I know you know that. There are cameras at the fountain that captured everything that occurred that day, and from multiple angles. The footage, and the testimony of the Council will be enough to exonerate you,” Qui-Gon promised.  
  
“I haven't exactly had a shining record as a student, or an apprentice,” Obi-Wan said petulantly.  
  
“And you think anyone sitting on the Council does?” Qui-Gon remarked.  
  
Obi-Wan made an inarticulate sound, but managed to keep from being sick a second time.  
  
“Let me tell you something, Padawan. And I want you to keep this in mind, though never repeat it.”  
  
Qui-Gon summoned the Force; and reaching out to Obi-Wan with it, he sent a soothing wave to quiet his stomach so that the boy could listen.  
  
“Master Windu once set his apprentice on fire. Accidentally, of course. Master Yoda had a moderately embarrassing experience with an enraged Gundark. Plo Koon has not once, but twice, infiltrated the wrong ship and had to call for diplomatic rescue. And Master Ki-Adi-Mundi fell asleep during a very boring political meeting, unintentionally causing a particularly nasty interplanetary incident. I will be glad to remind them all of those facts, and more, if I need to,” Qui-Gon said with a smirk.  
  
Obi-Wan was dangerously close to laughter as he removed the cloth from the back of his neck, using it to blot his face and brow before replacing it again. “You're joking?” he finally asked, astonished. For the first time in his life, it was occurring to him that the grown knights and Masters around him were people, and could make mistakes, too. That all Jedi were fallible beings.  
  
“No, I'm not joking, though I might be trying to lighten your heart a little. And don't worry. Depa's eyebrows eventually grew back.”  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~

A/N:  
  
Well, it was about time for some humor. Just a little. I really wanted to depict the Order as being "human". And since that goes right along with Obi-Wan's current developmental stage, it works out well. Also, if you ask Mace nicely, he might tell you what really happened in the Outer Rim. ^_~  
  
Disclaimer: I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. Thank you for reading ~  
  
Positive comments and encouragement are appreciated. ^_^  
  
Alpha Reader: All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
Beta Credit: All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
Zeta Reader: All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for! Work In Progress: This fic may eventually become time line divergent.

**Chapter Five:**  
  
       Obi-Wan lay on his borrowed sleep couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He felt heavy, and the guilt gnawing at him was a near-constant thing. Bruck. It always came back to Bruck Chun. He knew that he had not been responsible for what killed the other boy. Xanatos had. Still, Obi-Wan could not repress the feeling of those fingertips brushing past his as he lunged, trying to catch his rival before he fell.  
  
Shaking his head at himself, the apprentice pulled the heavy wool blanket closer around his shoulders, gripping it tight. If there was one thing that brought him some comfort, it was this ratty old blanket that had once been Qui-Gon's. He had no idea why, or when, his Master had placed it at the foot of the bed; but it was helping. Obi-Wan could smell the scent of the big man on it, and that was something he was gradually beginning to equate with safety. It might have stung his pride to admit it, but it was true.  
  
Perhaps Qui-Gon had gifted the blanket because he had known how difficult all of this would be for his Padawan. That this would be the first night Obi-Wan would willingly close the door to Xanatos' room, and let himself settle to the bed. It was reassurance without cosseting. It was a show of support and appreciation for his apprentice's compliance. But it still took all the willpower Obi-Wan had to keep from fleeing back to the benches by the training halls.  
  
The enormity of all the things that had happened to him in the last few months somehow mixed with the suffocation that was Xanatos' room; and a low sound left Obi-Wan's throat. The walls were closing in on him. He wished that he could recapture some of the light and joy that he had felt earlier in the day; but his grief had all but cut him off from the Living Force again. His stomach still ached from being sick and he felt hollow, so he rolled over to face the wall. It made where he was seem much less personal.  
  
It was irrational to feel alone, Obi-Wan knew. Especially when he could sense the heat of the stone that Qui-Gon had given him. It was nestled into his sleep-shirt pocket, and was all but humming with the energy of the Force it had accumulated that day. Things would get better. They had to. Yet Obi-Wan still found himself scrubbing tears of grief and exhaustion off of his face. He would never be a worthy apprentice, or a Jedi Knight. Not if he could not move past … this. There were no words for the situation he found himself in, nor the despair that threatened once more.

It was when he curled his knees miserably to his chest that he became aware of something happening within him. Something that he appreciated, but could not explain.  
  
A sensation of peace began to spread through his chest. Generalized at first, and then slowly, stronger. It was as if Qui-Gon was stroking his hair again, and the boy reached up to touch his braid reverently. He could feel his Master's Force signature in the twining of the strands, and that … that was when it became clear. Their bond. Qui-Gon was aware of Obi-Wan's distress, and had reached out through their link to soothe him. The apprentice had never felt anything like it before. They had spoken telepathically, they had touched, but this was intimate in a way that was beyond healing or meditation. Safety. Protection. Comfort. Warmth. His Master was near; this was right. Everything would be all right. And those simple thoughts were what followed Obi-Wan down into slumber, a cocoon of peace and the Force wrapped as tightly around him as the blanket Qui-Gon had given him.  
  
~*~  
  
       Qui-Gon was pacing his living quarters, circling the couch there like an agitated shark. One of the hardest things about guiding an apprentice was knowing when to step back. He would have slept beside Obi-Wan if the boy had asked. But he knew his Padawan would not. It was a point of pride. Obi-Wan was a much more traditional Jedi than his Master, and to him it would have seemed both improper, and an imposition. Qui-Gon hated how much Obi-Wan was hurting, though; and knew it had been unrequited emotions like this that had driven Xanatos to turn to the Dark Side. Wracking his brain for some way to support without interfering was difficult, but eventually the Master settled on the simplest method available to him.  
  
Reaching out through the Force, Qui-Gon stroked their bond. He knew that what he was doing could backfire on him. That Obi-Wan's healing might not have progressed enough to allow them to touch telepathically without pain. But he had to try. And when he did not hit a wall or feel rejection, he nudged a little harder … And flinched when strong emotions started to pour out of the conduit between them: the grief, rejection, fear, and panic threatening to swamp a startled Qui-Gon before he was able to get a grasp on them.  
  
Still surprised at his success, the Master started to ground those intense feelings in the Living Force; suggesting hope and peace to his weary apprentice in their stead. And keeping his touch just as light as he could manage, he tried to offer up reassurance. If he did his job right, Obi-Wan might not even know he had done anything at all … or so Qui-Gon thought. Because the moment he attempted to guide his learner toward sleep, he received an acknowledgment. It was quiet, like the chirp of a small animal stroked in a way it found soothing; but it had definitely been there. And when his Padawan finally yielded to dreams, the older Jedi slumped to the couch in exhaustion. Their bond worked. It did work. And it was improving.  
  
Too weary to bother changing into sleep clothes, Qui-Gon once again fell asleep in the middle of the commons; the beginnings of relief in his heart.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan felt surprisingly calm when he woke. He had slept through the night and did not even remember dreaming. Just … safety. And as he lay there, tangled in the blankets, something else started to dawn on him. At some point in his repose, Xanatos' rooms had ceased to belong to their previous owner. This space had become _his_. His retreat. Reality had finally begun to sink in. He was Qui-Gon's Padawan. He was allowed to stay at the Temple.

He was wanted, and all around him were contextual clues.  
  
His utility belt and lightsaber were sitting on top of the battered old dresser, the top drawer ajar with his spare uniform within it. His pack, half-undone, had spilled out on the floor, and he had toed his boots off just beside it. The blanket his Master had given him had been curled into a ball and pressed against his belly in a hug … and the Coruscant sunrise had turned everything within his new quarters a welcome shade of rose and gold.  
  
Jedi were not supposed to own anything, or to think of anywhere as home. But somehow. This was it. And Obi-Wan rather abruptly realized that he did not want to be anywhere else. He might have continued further along that train of thought; but his chrono beeped, and he gave it a swat to turn the thing off. Then he sat up, blinking drowsily as he stretched. Today he had to meet with Mace Windu. And he could not afford to make the mistake of being late twice in a row.  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan emerged from the 'fresher neatly dressed in clean robes. He was less pale, more collected, and there was a spring in his step that had been missing for several weeks now. The previous day's clumsiness was gone, along with some of the worst of his uncertainties. He would have to be unwavering in his determination, but he was sure that he could change the Council's opinion of him for the better. He had to if he was to continue on at the Temple, and if he wanted to cement his place by his Master's side. It was true that he would have to fight for every inch of ground he gained; but he had decided yesterday that it was worth it. If he didn't give up, things had to change for the better.  
  
Thus steeled for a fresh start, and intent on being early this time, the young apprentice strode toward the hall door. What he had not expected was for his Master to stop him halfway there, seemingly materializing to press a mug of hot tea into his hands.

And blinking in surprise, Obi-Wan found himself staring up into Qui-Gon's amused blue eyes,  
  
“Good morning, Master,” he managed to murmur. “Thank you.”  
  
“Today is an important day. A little tea will help. And if you are not too nervous to eat, I have made you a light breakfast.” Qui-Gon already understood his apprentice well. He had anticipated that nerves would suppress the boy's appetite, and that such a thing would not help him in his meeting with Mace today. He also knew Obi-Wan would be too polite to skip a meal made specifically for him. It wasn't exactly manipulation. Then again, it wasn't _not_ , either.  
  
“I don't know if I could— ”  
  
“—Obi-Wan. You need to eat. Do you remember what Tahl said?” Qui-Gon chastised. “I made certain you ate three times yesterday, and look at you today. You will recover in leaps and bounds if you nourish your body and rest properly.”  
  
The big Master's strong hands clasped Obi-Wan's thinner shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze as the boy looked down into his cup.  
  
“This smells wonderful. What type of tea is it?” Obi-Wan replied, overwhelmed by the kindness of the gesture, and uncertain how to reciprocate other than to show interest in something he knew his Master liked.  
  
“A green tea. With jasmine,” Qui-Gon said, steering his reticent Padawan toward the close quarters of the kitchenette. “It is fragrant, and I find it enjoyable with my breakfast.” Sitting the boy down at one of the chairs at the narrow table, he set a plate before him. Upon it was several slices of melon, and two pieces of thickly sliced bread piled high with strips of meat.  
  
“Master, I should be cooking for you, not you for me. But … thank you. This does look good.”  
  
“It tastes even better,” Qui-Gon said, not allowing Obi-Wan to wallow in his uncertainty regarding the traditional roles between Padawan and Master. “I just finished my plate. Now—” The big man reached into his utility belt, pulling out a device that Obi-Wan recognized instantly. “—Finger.”  
  
“Is this really necessar—ouch!” Obi-Wan objected as Qui-Gon acquired and pricked the tip of the digit in question.  
  
“It is. Now finish quickly, or you will be late for your meeting with Master Windu.” Qui-Gon chuckled; already fiddling with readings as he stored the sample he had just taken.  
  
“Oh, Master?” Obi-Wan asked softly; expression unreadable as he tried to hold pressure on his bleeding fingertip and wolf his meal down at the same time. “If you see Bant?” he muttered around a mouthful. “Could you tell her to meet me for evening meal? I keep promising her that I will. But this time, I really will be there.”  
  
Qui-Gon smiled at that. The boy knew that his friend would undoubtedly be the one to run the readings on the 'chlorian count that had just been taken. It also spoke volumes of his apprentice's acceptance of the fact that he would be allowed to stay. It was a subtle way of telling Qui-Gon 'thank-you', and the big man clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder.  
  
“I will tell her.”  
  
~*~  
  
        Obi-Wan kept his arms crossed and his hands up his sleeves, his expression completely neutral. After their initial greeting, there had been only silence between Mace and himself; though the Padawan had stayed in step with the other Jedi well enough. Their pace was not hurried.  
  
If he was honest, Obi-Wan had no idea where they were going, but he did not ask any questions. He was determined to give no reason for the Master beside him to evaluate his use of the Force, and Mace appeared content to keep it that way. But their travels were taking them further and further away from the Temple proper, and each turn that they made down echoing hallways seemed to guide them closer to an inexplicable hush ...

And with a jolt, Obi-Wan finally realized where they were. It was a place that a Padawan only visited once in their lifetime, and the young apprentice found himself glancing to Mace to see if the Master was joking. It simply wasn't possible, and it was far too soon! This had to be an intimidation tactic.  
  
If it was, Obi-Wan had to admit that it was working. The lighting around the Trial Hall was low, as it was not currently in use, yet it still made apprehension scurry along the Padawan's spine. There was something sinister about the place with its cargo nets, pylons levitating above water, and climbing ropes. And after a brief study, the young apprentice knew exactly what it was.  
  
The Force was missing.  
  
When Mace turned to scrutinize his expression, Obi-Wan did not try to hide his apprehension, nor could he find words. His own pains were still fresh, if not open wounds; and the feel of nothingness that lurked beneath the surface made it hard to breathe.  
  
“Of all the things you have learned, of all the things you prepare for in the course of your training as a Jedi Knight, one thing is more important than all the rest,” Mace began, dark eyes boring into Obi-Wan's stunned blue.  
  
“What it is like to live as a man. Not a Jedi. To do all you do, every day, without the Force at your side. If you can do it well without, you can do it better with.”  
  
Obi-Wan made a choked sound low in his throat. The Trial grounds were lined with stone that neutralized the Force. And he firmly believed that the obstacle course before him would have been suicide to navigate even if a Jedi was able to call upon his abilities. He was not supposed to know this. He was not supposed to see this. It was never spoken of, the trials … and certainly not to a Padawan. If they were not prepared to face anything when they underwent their initiation, they were not ready to be a Jedi Knight …  
  
“I know what you are thinking,” Mace said quietly. “How could I bring you here, and show you this? You are just beginning, and this should be a secret. One you would have had to eventually face the truth of. But you see, Padawan Kenobi. You have already been here, in a manner of speaking. I will not ask for how long you were practically Force-mute. But I know this: this Trial will not be yours. We would just be wasting your time. You have grappled with something grown Masters pale at the mere thought of. As a matter of fact, you have done many things already that are braver than you know.”  
  
Obi-Wan was shaking, a fine sweat covering his body as his anxiety rose. He could not ground it in the Force like he wished, but he could still find his center. And surprisingly … Qui-Gon. He almost felt like his Master was standing next to him, and some of his fears fled.  
  
“Like now, for instance,” Mace said, expression growing softer. “Utilizing what you have to accomplish a goal, no matter how limited that resource might be, makes for a fine Knight.  
  
Obi-Wan blushed at the praise, surprised that Mace had noticed, or had anything nice to say. He had expected this would be a scolding and a half.  
  
“And then there is the matter of your defection.”  
  
At that, the young apprentice's spine stiffened, and he took a deep breath. Bracing himself for whatever might come to pass.  
  
“There is not a Master among us who has not, if for a day or even years, turned their back on the Order. You felt we were failing you. And I cannot necessarily disagree with you there. You learned that the Temple was fallible, that other Jedi did not always have your best interests at heart. You saw the ugly truth. That each one of us was capable of letting you down. And you followed your heart to Melida/Daan. There you learned something else that could not be taught here at the Temple. You learned that the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence. You learned why Jedi should not fall in love. And you learned that while the Temple was not perfect, it had been the best place for you. You tested us, we failed you. And yet you returned. Because your true heart was here. Yes, you are no longer a child. The mistakes you made were not the mistakes of a child. But to cast you out for doing what you thought best? I do not believe that will happen if I have anything to say about it. It is only through our mistakes that we learn. And not all mistakes should be punished. They are learning opportunities, not the end of a Jedi's career. Or all of us would be farmers on Bandomeer.”  
  
Obi-Wan was so relieved that he could not speak, and it was a good thing that Mace was not asking him to. The young apprentice then took a few slow breaths, waiting for the thick feeling in the back of his throat to ease.  
  
“And I don't expect a reply. Just think about it. Oh. And before we go, I have one more thing to say.”  
  
The young apprentice steeled himself again, his knees feeling weak.  
  
“We are not droids. Jedi are not machines. We are raised and trained to follow the will of the Force; and to do what we believe to be right. But at the end of the day, the Council does not have to look in the mirror and face what you have done. You do. I would much rather our Jedi be disobedient and follow the will of the Force. Rules are necessary. But sometimes they do more harm than good.”  
  
Mace then reached out, touching the braid behind Obi-Wan's ear.  
  
“I am reinstating your name on our roster. You are officially Qui-Gon's Padawan. And I won't hear any argument.”  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes were still slightly too wide, his breathing coming rapidly, but he nodded, lowering his gaze as triumph washed through his veins. “Yes, Master Windu.”  
  
~*~  
  
        Qui-Gon felt helpless again. He had taken the day off to catch up on grading and paperwork. Or at least, that had been his excuse. In reality, he had thought it best to restrict himself to his quarters so that he did not go after his apprentice. He could not explain why he was feeling so overprotective. It simply was. And he knew that if he interfered now it would do more harm than good, especially at this vital juncture.

So naturally, he was pacing. And he certainly wasn't getting any tests marked.  
  
Of course, the Master was aware that there were many other things to do rather than feeling unsettled. For example, meditation; but that was impossible because of how centrally located the link with his apprentice was. Obi-Wan wasn't aware that the conduit was open, and thus he was not shielding. So from time to time spikes of anxiety and fear lanced through the bond in ways that left Qui-Gon … distracted. To say the least.  
  
And naturally, while trying not to think about anything at all, Qui-Gon somehow ended up in Obi-Wan's room. Part of him was outraged at himself for intruding on the young man's privacy … and yet, he was also glad that he had. Especially when he saw the changes to the space.  
  
There was no trace of Xanatos.  
  
Obi-Wan's quarters were messy. The boy's travel bag had been dumped out on the unmade bed in hurried search of … who knew what. And dirty clothing, sparse as it was, was in a heap on one side of the room. A few spare screws, a small screwdriver set, and strips of wire had obviously been rummaged from a pocket to be placed on the night stand. Probably from the robes that had to be laundered.  
  
Then there was the matter of the blanket Qui-Gon had left the night before. Clearly it had been appreciated, as it was rumpled up against the pillows from being held close. And when the Master's blue eyes drifted to the chest of drawers that was slightly ajar, he found that the additional robe and tunic set he had provided had been reverently tucked inside. Atop the piece of battered furniture, a few food and energy capsules had been haphazardly scattered, and ...  
  
At last. Thank the Force, at last.  
  
Obi-Wan had begun to truly accept his place at Qui-Gon's side.

~*~  
  
       It was Bant who delivered Obi-Wan's test results to Qui-Gon, because Tahl had been called away on a mission. And now the Mon Cala was standing in the big Master's living quarters, looking both miserable and uncomfortable.  
  
“Bant, it is all right. Would you care to have a seat?” Qui-Gon gestured to the nearby meditation cushions.  
  
“Master Jinn, I ... before I say anything else. I want to apologize,” the Padawan stuttered, her orange skin pale as she fidgeted.  
  
Qui-Gon was taken aback. “For what, Bant?” he asked kindly, confusion written on his face.  
  
“I was terrible to you, when Obi-Wan was so sick. I thought you were hurting him on purpose. And I felt it was horrible of you to push him away like you did. Especially when he loved you so much, and all he needed was a chance. When he needed you. And I … I said things to others at the Temple. I talked about things I shouldn't have to my friends. I … what I did was wrong. I hurt you and Obi-Wan more by gossiping than you did in any other way, no matter what I might have liked to believe.”  
  
Qui-Gon was frowning, but not at Bant's words. It was something else. Gently he reached out and set a big hand on the Mon Cala's shoulder.  
  
“Bant, Tahl did not leave you behind because of that. Your Master, of all people, understands how difficult I can be. And I forgive you. Frankly, I agree with you. I did hurt Obi-Wan, and it is my duty to make it right between him and me. I know you meant well, even if what came of your actions was anything but. And you did not do as much damage as you think. I did the majority of that all on my own.” Qui-Gon squeezed that trembling shoulder reassuringly.  
  
“Master Jinn, I...”  
  
“Bant. It will all work out. You'll see. Take that much away from this, and think of it as a life lesson. Sometimes we do what we think is right, and later it turns out to not be. Sometimes we think we are following the will of the Force, but we are really fooling ourselves and trying to further our own desires; which is not always the best thing for us in the long run. Achieving balance is difficult; and life is for making mistakes, by which we discern where the measure of right and wrong lies for us as Jedi.”  
  
Bant was blushing furiously, but Qui-Gon hugged her anyway. She was only uncertain about herself and her abilities when Tahl left her behind. And the big Jedi resolved to say something to his friend if this happened again. More than once, the Noorian Master had mentioned that she believed Bant was too immature to go with her on missions. And Qui-Gon had argued that the Mon Cala would never grow if Tahl kept trying to shelter her. Bant would be a wonderful Jedi someday as long as she was not stifled.  
  
“Oh, and Bant? Obi-Wan invited you to meet him for Late Meal. I promised him I would tell you.”  
  
~*~

       Obi-Wan had been left in the creche, much to his surprise. Master Windu had stated that it was just as important to remember the beginning as it was to anticipate the end. And he had been right.  
  
The young apprentice was currently comforting a crying Rodian who had done poorly during the day's lesson and was afraid he would never be a Jedi. And Obi-Wan found he could empathize now more than ever. Thankfully, it did not take much to reassure the other. And after some practice with one of the glass spheres like he and Qui-Gon had used the day before, the youngling seemed less morose.  
  
“There. See? I told you that you could do it. You just got nervous. You're going to make a great Jedi yet!” the tired Padawan praised.  
  
But before the Rodian could reply, a shadow fell over Obi-Wan, and he turned to find Bant standing in the open doorway of the classroom.  
  
“Obi-Wan,” she said with a smile that looked painfully forced. “I found you. I am supposed to … I have a message for you, from the Council,” she said, no joy in her silver eyes as she blinked at him. She was obviously trying to contain whatever emotion she might have been feeling in deference to the younglings in the room.  
  
~*~  
  
       “Tomorrow?” Obi-Wan asked, brow raised in surprise.  
  
“Tomorrow,” she confirmed, hugging her friend apologetically.  
  
“But what will I tell my Master?” Obi-Wan asked, a hint of a quaver in his voice.  
  
“What you should. That you need his help. I am sure he will be there for you. I think … I think the character witness would do you some good. Not that you will lose. But I know I would feel better if Master Jinn stood up for me.”  
  
“You look nervous. What else is happening?” Obi-Wan asked, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Bant's silver eyes filled up with tears, and she hugged Obi-Wan all the tighter. “The Council called me to witness, too. And I'm afraid. My Master isn't here, and I don't know what I should do. I know this is so much worse for you, but it worries me when I can't be certain what I will be asked. I have to tell the truth; not that I wouldn't. But I'm scared Bruck's lawyer will use what I say against you somehow. You're my friend, Obi-Wan. I don't want you hurt. This trial is bad enough!”  
  
Any thought of his own plight went directly out the window as Obi-Wan hugged her back as tightly as he could. “Oh Bant. Tahl loves you, and I am sure she would be here if she could. I'm so sorry you have to do this alone. Think of Qui-Gon as your Master, too. And when he stands up for me, he stands up for you. I know it won't be easy, and you'll be scared. I will be, too. Just trust me when I say that no matter what happens, you will always be my friend.”  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan had stayed until the dining hall closed for the evening. And when he and Bant had parted, she looked more cheerful than when he had first sat her down to chatter about lightsaber construction. She had needed the change in topic, and it had gone a long way to reassure her that things were still the same, even if the future felt insurmountable.  
  
Now Obi-Wan was back at the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon, and once again he found his Master sitting on the couch, calmly grading papers.  
  
“Master,” Obi-Wan said, smiling in relief at the sight of the big man.  
  
“Obi-Wan, welcome back. How did things go?” Qui-Gon asked, once the door had snapped shut behind his apprentice. Of course, he already knew the answer because Mace had told him everything. But he would not say anything of it. He would rather hear Obi-Wan's version of the encounter, anyway.  
  
“That … might be a long story. Let me make some tea,” the tired Padawan answered, detouring to the kitchenette to put water on to boil as he located cups and saucers. And there he tried to summon a brave face.  
  
Obi-Wan knew that he had to be less focused on his own troubles. He would never be a good Jedi if he did not learn that there was more to the universe than himself. Still, he felt empty, hollow, and … starved for something he could not name. Things were easier today than yesterday; yet he continued to have trouble connecting to anyone, let alone the Force, the way he felt he should.  
  
He had been consumed by those thoughts, and slicing a lemon, when the kettle whistled; and the sound made him jump. He nicked his thumb with the knife, and then cursed in frustration as he reached to turn off the heating element. And that was how Qui-Gon found him.  
  
“Careful, Padawan,” Qui-Gon soothed; stepping up behind his apprentice to capture and examine the sliced digit in question.  
  
“It's nothing,” Obi-Wan said. “I was just clumsy.” The cut was small, and barely bleeding. It had merely added injury to insult.  
  
“It's not 'nothing', and you know it,” Qui-Gon chided softly. He had worried about finding Obi-Wan in a mood like this; but for now, all he could do was offer a shoulder.  
  
“They reinstated me. They made it official this afternoon.” Obi-Wan finally acquiesced, using his good hand to pour the kettle even as Qui-Gon held pressure on his thumb with an old tea towel.  
  
“That is good news, is it not?” the Master encouraged.  
  
“Yes. But I think they only did it because I'm standing trial tomorrow,” Obi-Wan grumbled; not bothering to school his cynicism, his exhaustion, or his expression. He was certain Qui-Gon would understand. It was also the only way he knew how to break the news to his Master.  
  
“I see,” Qui-Gon said, neither confirming nor denying his Padawan's fears, nor his revelation. “Did you eat?”  
  
Obi-Wan was silent, not able to respond. That question felt too overwhelming and personal, and panic gripped the young man's heart all the tighter.  
  
Sensing this, Qui-Gon tried another tactic. “Come sit with me. I won't ask any more questions. Just sit,” he invited. “We will have a cup of tea together.”  
  
~*~  
  
       Obi-Wan had managed half of his tea in concentrated silence. That was, until he began to shake and could not stop. Overwhelmed wasn't the right word, but it was close. And when the apprentice's trembling threatened to spill his drink, Qui-Gon's broad hand closed over the boy's, steadying him.  
  
The big man then moved closer, until the sides of their knees touched where they sat on the couch; and there, able to brace his Padawan, he guided him through the motions of setting the cup back down on the coffee table.  
  
“Obi-Wan. Everything will be fine. Bant will be all right. And so will you. I know this is a terrible thing to go through, and I have already expressed my feelings regarding your trial to the Council.”  
  
“You mean Mace?” Obi-Wan replied blandly.  
  
“Yes. I told Mace that while it was good to allow you a chance to speak up for yourself … the Council could not, and would not, be allowed to abandon you. There are times when I worry that while they mean well, and are wise beings, they are unwittingly breeding that which they fear the most. The Temple … they take children away from their families, and make them into Jedi out of the concern that they will fall to a dark path without guidance. I have been part of this in the past. And many times we do give younglings an opportunity that they otherwise might not have had. But then we forbid them to love or make a place for themselves in our universe. And that is, deep down, what all beings crave the most. The least the Council could do is make our Jedi feel like the Temple is their home, but I digress. Obi-Wan. Know this. You are a Jedi, and you are part of the Order. You will be defended. If I must stand beside you alone, it will be so. But I don't think that will happen. You have more friends here than you realize. And Bant will be with you, too. And I have faith in her.”  
  
Obi-Wan was staring at his Master, eyes wide. It was treason to say such things about the Council! And yet … the young Jedi heard everything he had thought at least twice today echoed in Qui-Gon's words. And strangely, that calmed him more than anything else might have at this point.  
  
“Master, I am tired. I feel weary and sick of all of this. Sick of death. I—I don't think I will ever get used to it.”  
  
“I don't know many who do, Obi-Wan. If that ever happens, it will probably be time for you to retire from the field. But that is a thought for another day,” the big man said, reaching out to rest a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.  
  
And carefully, Obi-Wan's came up to settle over it, drawing confidence from the older Jedi as he tried to brace himself again. He had cleared some major hurdles today. He just had to get through Bruck's trial now …  
  
“I know you could not keep down your meal tonight, but I think it would encourage you to know that your 'chlorian count is up to eight thousand. It is going to get easier, Padawan. I could feel you all day through our training bond. And I know how hard today has been for you, because I have shared it with you every step of the way. Never believe that you are alone. You are not. I am here for you,” Qui-Gon murmured.  
  
“It is up, then ...” Obi-Wan whispered in relief, sliding onto his side on the couch before eventually resting his head on Qui-Gon's knee. Needing the closeness, and the wash of the Force between them that always sprang up when they touched.  
  
“Yes, Obi-Wan. I think you will be getting your strength back quickly. That is, if you take care of yourself.”  
  
The big man did not want his apprentice to feel that he was being coddled. But, on the other hand, he could not risk letting him think he was alone. What Obi-Wan was facing could easily overwhelm a Master, let alone a Padawan. Besides, Qui-Gon was comfortable with the boy's head resting on his knee. And when Obi-Wan drifted off, body limp with exhaustion and thumb still wrapped in a tea-towel, Qui-Gon was content with the progress they had made.  
  
Obi-Wan had come to him for help. Obi-Wan had spoken to him of his feelings, and his day. And that was so heartening that the fatigued Master decided to focus there, instead of on what could be. Tomorrow … might destroy all of their hard work. But Qui-Gon had to believe that it wouldn't.  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
**A/N:**  
~~I am in the process of seeing if I can grab a temporary beta, as mine has gone on Easter holiday; and apparently, so has my brain. Thanks for being patient with me. It's important that I get things up, even if they aren't polished. Otherwise I fret they will never be good enough and refuse to post them for months at a time. And my readers get a little cross with that x.x (Also! I am recovering from major abdominal surgery; which I swear took my higher writing and drawing functions, as well as my confidence, with it. The hell, you know? :D)~~ Many thanks to Merry Amelie :D Who bravely gave this flaming wreck a hearty onceover. ^_^ It should be lots better now!  
  
**Disclaimer:** I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. Thank you for reading ~  
  
**Alpha Reader:** All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
**Beta Credit:** All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
**Zeta Reader:** All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!  
> Work In Progress: This fic may eventually become time line divergent.

**Chapter Six:**  
  
    Obi-Wan sat bolt upright when he felt his Master's hand come to rest on his shoulder, and he blinked about blearily as he tried to gather his senses. It seemed that neither he nor Qui-Gon had made it to their separate rooms, and the big man looked just as owlish at the end of the couch where he slouched, clutching his comlink. Instinctively, Obi-Wan went still as he felt his Master squeeze his bicep. The gesture was both reassurance, and a request for silence.  
  
This explained the odd dream Obi-Wan had been having about listening to a hushed conversation.  
  
It was before dawn. Rain was hurling itself at the thick glass windows of their quarters, and the drowsy Padawan wondered exactly what time it was. But he could not reach his chrono without making noise, and that would not do when Qui-Gon wanted him to pretend he was not here. The older Jedi was choosing to let Obi-Wan eavesdrop, and the boy would respect that. It was an honor, in a way, and made the young apprentice feel trusted, even if he was leery about what he might overhear. Especially since he knew Qui-Gon was speaking about him.  
  
“Vox Chun, Bruck Chun's father, will be visiting the Temple this afternoon, as is his right. The Council will want to speak with Obi-Wan to inform him of this meeting. Your Padawan will be required to explain the circumstances surrounding Bruck Chun's death. Which is the bad news. But, because of this, the trial has been pushed back to mid-day to give Vox Chun time to change his mind about pressing charges. Which is … almost good news.” Mace Windu's voice was tinny in the quiet of the darkened room.  
  
Qui-Gon's brow was furrowing further and further. “So Obi-Wan will have a chance to explain his side of things, and possibly avert the need for prosecution. Thank you, Mace,” he replied, voice deep with sleep.  
  
“You both deserve some warning. Catch a few more hours, and your summons will come after Early Meal.”  
  
“Thank you. Truly,” Qui-Gon said, a stifled yawn lost somewhere in his words.  
  
“Sleep, Jinn. You know, that troublesome time between defying the Council and having another cup of tea?”  
  
This made Qui-Gon snort, and then the groggy Master hung up without another word, cutting Mace off mid “Typical.”  
  
Obi-Wan was staring at Qui-Gon, eyes showing a bit too much white around the edges as he nestled deeper into the cushions. He was shocked. What did … why would Vox do this? The man was clearly not compassionate, nor had he loved his son. Was this a chance to intimidate Obi-Wan? A chance to dig for more evidence? More than ever the boy was glad that Qui-Gon had healed his arm. And he might have been less irritated with the Council for re-instating him when he was not certain they were sincere. Even if the Order was just trying to save their collective skins politically, it still gave Obi-Wan an advantage. The only advantage he had, actually.  
  
“I know what you are thinking,” Qui-Gon said, voice haggard with exhaustion. “And I do not even have to use our training bond.”  
  
Obi-Wan wisely did not reply; instead he remained unmoving, trying to take comfort in the serenity that seemed to surround his Master at all times.  
  
“You do not trust this. And you are aware that Vox Chun was just pardoned for his crimes against Telos, for which he was imprisoned. You and I both have a bad feeling about the outcome of such a meeting. But perhaps … perhaps if you see this situation for all it is, plain and honest before you, it will stop plaguing your dreams, Padawan.”  
  
Obi-Wan blinked. So Qui-Gon knew? Did he talk in his sleep? Had Bant somehow … No. It was best not to think too hard on such things. He had been sleeping beside Qui-Gon. He must be sleep-talking. That was all there was to it. “Like when we voice our fears to others, acknowledging them aloud, and we realize how ridiculous they really are?”  
  
“Yes, like that,” Qui-Gon said comfortingly, his thumb rubbing Obi-Wan's shoulder gently. “Our fears, when they see the light of day, seem to grow much smaller. Perhaps that is all it will take. Get some more rest.”  
  
A rush of reassurance shot through the younger Jedi, and slowly, Obi-Wan relaxed into the cushions of the couch. He was tired, yet his mind was too busy to let him sleep. That was a fault of his that he believed he shared with his Master. So, when Qui-Gon gave their bond a light nudge, Obi-Wan was not surprised to find understanding and a gentle Force suggestion to unwind.  
  
Of course he was afraid. And it was still difficult for the young apprentice to ground himself in the Living Force. Qui-Gon knew that and was trying to help, but deep down what was bothering the boy the most was the worry for his Master, and his anxieties surrounding their relationship. Qui-Gon had been through enough with Xanatos, and Obi-Wan was apprehensive that somehow the older Jedi would abandon him rather than choose to go through more difficulties with the Council.  
  
He knew that his Master would not. That Qui-Gon would never abandon a Padawan. But in his heart the younger Jedi still felt he might not be worthy ... Which proved his Master to be correct. It would be best, perhaps, to lie the proverbial bag of snakes in his mind end to end and see if he could not straighten out his perception. Keeping his fears locked away was not helping him, and he needed to set aside his pride. He had asked for help, and it would be prudent of him to accept what was given.  
  
“Padawan, I can almost hear you thinking. Please rest; we have a long day tomorrow,” Qui-Gon said in the following not-so-quiet quiet.  
  
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. And for a while he did manage some mental calm. In that time, Qui-Gon fell back asleep, still clutching his comlink. And Obi-Wan allowed himself a small smile.  
  
It was satisfying to know that he was trusted this far, that he was allowed to sleep beside his Master. And he studied that noble face, innocent and slack in slumber, wondering how Xanatos could ever betray someone as compassionate and kind as Qui-Gon Jinn.  
  
In all their encounters with his Master's wayward Padawan, Obi-Wan had never been able to see anything but cruelty, arrogance, and a frantic, if clever, mind. Had Xanatos ever been as he was? Or had he always been so … dark. The boy could not even fathom Qui-Gon choosing an apprentice with such a temperament, and he worried for himself. The last thing he wanted to do was become another Xanatos. And that thought alone was enough to motivate him to improve as a Jedi  
  
He had heard the tales from others in the creche, about how Xanatos had turned to the Dark Side. And Obi-Wan was determined to never do so, even if it was only for Qui-Gon's sake. He knew deep down that there were some things he was not capable of, so he was probably safe. He was uncomfortable with death, and still felt sick just thinking about what happened to Bruck. Xanatos, however, had found sacrificing an Initiate easy enough. After all, he had been the one to whip Obi-Wan's former creche-mate into a frenzy of jealousy and self-doubt in an attempt to get at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.  
  
And while the situation had been terrible, Obi-Wan mentally thanked Xanatos for reminding him of what he never wanted to become.  
  
As the story went, Xanatos had been a proud son of a noble family. He was later in coming to the Temple, and had memories of his family and their fortune. Despite that, he had been accepted into the creche. And later was taken as a Padawan by Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon had been blindly proud of Xanatos, and the dark-haired boy had been swift to take advantage of that. He was a deceiver of every sort, and was quick to blame others for his own misdeeds instead of facing his mistakes and growing. That had been Xanatos' greatest downfall as a senior apprentice.  
  
Yet somehow, Qui-Gon's dark-haired protege had nearly succeeded into knighthood. Master Yoda insisted time-and-again that Xanatos was not ready to face the Trials. Still, Qui-Gon had persisted. And so Yoda had set one last test of his own for Master and Padawan. It had been a seemingly simple mission to Xanatos' home planet. One that had eventually led to a full-scale investigation of Xanatos' father, and fortune. The situation exploded when Qui-Gon was forced to kill his own apprentice's father. And that day Xanatos turned to the Dark Side, swearing vengeance upon Qui-Gon and the Jedi as a whole.  
  
This might not have bothered Obi-Wan quite so much, but when Xanatos' retribution had come home to roost, Obi-Wan had been his main target. The prodigal Jedi had done everything he could, every chance he got, to discourage Obi-Wan and undermine his relationship with Qui-Gon. Then, when he could not succeed openly, Xanatos had been discontent with planting seeds of doubt and wondering if they would come to fruition. He had attacked the Temple, and turned the other Padawans against Obi-Wan at a time when the younger boy had been at his most fragile. He had also kidnapped Bant, nearly killing her, and had set a jealous Bruck Chun against Obi-Wan. It had been a very ... unpleasant situation. One that had unknowingly done the exact opposite of what Xanatos had planned. It had brought Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon back together again, and set them on a path to healing the wounds that had been inflicted on them, and each other.  
  
But Bruck's loss … that was the worst pain remaining from the whole debacle. Despite the fact that Bruck Chun had been sent by Xanatos to kill Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan had tried to save him. His creche-mate's death had been an accident. Bruck could have been saved if Obi-Wan had been only half a second faster to keep him from plunging from the waterfall. And Obi-Wan was haunted by the look of hope in those eyes in the last seconds of Bruck's life, as their fingertips had brushed.

Bruck had not wanted to turn to the Dark Side, even if he was filled with rage. The other boy had known what he was doing was wrong, and felt helpless to stop himself once he realized how badly he had erred. It was true that he and Obi-Wan had always been at each others' throats in the creche, and the bigger boy had been a bully. It was also fair to say that their sparring match in front of Qui-Gon had been what had led the big Master to reject Obi-Wan the first time. But never had Obi-Wan wanted to see Bruck perish. In a way, he had understood that sort of desperation. And now Bruck would never have a chance to right his wrongs or prove himself. Bruck was dead, and the light in the Force that he could have been … had been snuffed out.  
  
Obi-Wan sighed and rolled over to face the back of the couch, Qui-Gon's big hand, slack with sleep still resting on his shoulder, and he pushed aside his despair. He would only wake with a stomach ache if he kept on thinking about things he could not change. Tomorrow, perhaps, he could put all of this right. Qui-Gon was with him. He would not face his trials alone.  
  
~*~  
  
    The most unsettling part of the morning, Obi-Wan decided, had been Kad Chun. Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan that Bruck's brother had been the first to disembark Vox's transport because it would disconcert him. The boy had to admit that it had worked. For a moment, as Kad Chun had descended the ramp, Obi-Wan's heart had skipped a beat. He thought Bruck was alive. That hope had soared, only to crash again when he realized the truth. Kad was Bruck's sibling.  
  
The conversation that had followed had not been helpful in the least, and Vox had brought his prosecuting attorney, Sano Sauro, as a 'friend of the family'. The ensuing battles of words and political wits had left the young Padawan pale and defeated in their wake, and full of guilt that he knew he did not deserve, but could not move past. It hurt to tell the truth and not be believed. The Jedi and the Chuns could have grieved together, instead it had come to litigation.  
  
And unlike his troubles, at least the rain had passed. Obi-Wan found himself lying on a sun-warmed embankment in the Temple gardens, curled up on his side and feeling hollowed out. The moment that the entourage from Telos had left, he had collapsed here and Qui-Gon, who sat beside him, had done nothing but extend a comforting hand. How could he do more? Obi-Wan knew his Master would have traded places with him in an instant if he could have, he could sense that much through their training bond. Still, he could not smile for Qui-Gon no matter how hard he tried.  
  
“You have to let go of your guilt, Obi-Wan, so that you can grieve. If you do not, this will poison you. That will be Xanatos' legacy living on. And you and I both do not want that. If you need to cry, I will offer you my shoulder. You do not have to face this alone. I am your Master, and your troubles are as much mine, as mine are yours. This is not your fault. You could not have changed anything. And despite what a grieving, vengeful father might say and do, Vox knows this. He was not blind to Bruck's faults. It is true we must go to trial now. But perhaps this, too, will lead to healing. It is strange how our enemies intend us harm, and end up doing good. But that is the way of the Force. I appreciate it, even if I do not understand it.” Qui-Gon's hand began to rub slow circles on his Padawan's shoulder, just before coming to rest on that short braid behind the boy's ear, which he gave an encouraging tug, drawing a hesitant, lopsided smirk from Obi-Wan.  
  
It was a start.  
  
~*~  
  
    As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, things could not have gone more poorly. And it felt like he had all the time in the world to consider that. The trial was a two-day affair, and so far the first had been nothing short of an act of brutality. For himself, and for Bant.  
  
Yet it was Bant Obi-Wan felt worse for. The Council had stood up for him, and so had his Master. But for his friend … it had been a different matter altogether. Sano Sauro had not been satisfied with making the Mon Cala relive that terrible day over and over again; he had questioned her very perception of impending death. His point being that Bruck had not intended to kill Bant, only to bait Obi-Wan. Of course, Obi-Wan and Bant both knew better. They simply had no way to prove that.  
  
Technically, Obi-Wan knew that Sano's argument was weak. A game of semantics meant to earn the sympathy of the jury for Bruck. A sympathy that would eventually crumble under the weight of evidence. Bruck had known the Temple would be destroyed. Bruck had fallen under the influence of Xanatos. Bruck was a bully who fully intended to destroy Bant and Obi-Wan, and had nearly succeeded.  
  
And might yet. Obi-Wan had faced the jury with his Master at his side, but Bant had not. Tahl had returned earlier that morning, only to be called directly back to Centax-2. Her expertise had been needed to further investigate the fighter program there. Naturally, Qui-Gon had been summoned not long afterward to assist her. That meant that his Master had left court  immediately after his deposition, and Bant had once again been left without hers to help her face Sano Sauro, or console her, and …  
  
Obi-Wan was overwhelmed.  
  
He felt more alone than he ever had in his life. And he wanted to go to Bant, to help her. He knew that if he stood by her side, neither of them would feel abandoned. But he was not entirely certain if that was the right thing to do. The Mon Calamarian was already timid, and if he tried to force his assistance on her, he might make things worse, not better. And perhaps he did not feel that he was in the best shape to support her when he was bitter with his own Master. Once again, Qui-Gon had gone running off after Tahl. Orders were orders, but sometimes Obi-Wan felt deserted. He knew that was jealousy speaking, and that it was wrong. But at times he could not help it. At least, he mused, he understood where Bant was coming from.

The young apprentice's indecision held him in a vice grip. Which eventually led to him staring at the opposite end of the couch in the main room of Qui-Gon's quarters, and wishing his Master was there. He knew what Qui-Gon would want him to do. He knew what he was supposed to do. But he was not feeling particularly confident, nor hungry. And after a lonely cup of tea, Obi-Wan gave up, decided to skip Late Meal, and went straight to bed. He should have attended a class or two, or even meditation, but his heart was not in it. And retreating to his quarters, he lay down, feeling heavy in a way he could not express. But the rock in the breast pocket of his robes was a soothing warmth, and he drew what comfort he could from it.  
  
~*~  
  
    It was some time in the middle of the night that a disturbance in the Force woke Obi-Wan. Half of him had been confused and wanted to stay asleep, but the other had insistently warned him that he needed to go to Bant. That he could not delay. In retrospect, he was glad he had fallen asleep fully dressed, because before he knew it he was pelting blindly through the Temple in the dark of night, knowing exactly where he needed to be for the first time in ages.  
  
The Room of a Thousand Fountains.  
  
Bruck had attempted to kill Bant by knocking her unconscious, and then chaining her to the bottom of the main fountain pool in that very room. Which sounded absurd, considering her species was amphibious. However, she could only go so long without air, or she, too, could drown just like a human. And when Obi-Wan had finally rescued her, she was dangerously near death. He still remembered how cold and pale she had been beneath him as he hauled her up out of the water.  
  
That had been the very detail that Sano Sauro had attacked yesterday. How could Bant know if she had really been near death? Had she pushed herself? Could she be certain? The prosecutor had badgered her until she had been a trembling mess. And that meant that Obi-Wan knew exactly what she was doing now: trying to prove her limits.  
  
Obi-Wan's heart was in his throat as he vaulted a row of hedges, tearing down the nearest path to the pools. When he came to a stop on the edge of the fountain, he could see her there, floating at the bottom, deathly still. And once again he was reminded of that horrible day a year ago. Without a second thought, Obi-Wan leaped in, swimming hard to the bottom of the pool. Bant was limp in his arms, her skin sallow, and she did not resist when he kicked them back to the surface, struggling to pull them both from the water.  
  
“Bant!” Obi-Wan spluttered, coughing as he rolled her onto her side and patted her back vigorously. At first the Mon Cala did not respond, but when Obi-Wan grasped her shoulder and shook her, she took a gasping breath, color rushing back to her orange skin as she blinked silver eyes in surprise.  
  
“Obi-Wan?” she whispered, her voice tearful.  
  
“Force! Bant! Don't ever do that to me again!” Obi-Wan gathered her up in his arms, pulling her to his shoulder even as she began to cry. “This has to be the stupidest thing you have ever done! What were you thinking!?” Obi-Wan rasped. He knew it wasn't his place to grill her on an act of folly. He had done his share of bantha-brained things. But he was terrified, and he could not stop holding her, feeling her heart beat against his. Oh, he had let her down. He should have come to her earlier instead of wallowing in self-pity.  
  
“I had to know,” Bant whispered. “I had to know if he was wrong ...” she trailed off woozily.  
  
“And was he?” Obi-Wan asked, sounding exasperated.  
  
“Back then … it was only my hope that you would find me that kept me going for so long. I was near death, Obi-Wan. I know my limit. I know … I know my limit now.”  
  
Obi-Wan did not know what to say, other than to apologize to her, and then kiss her damp, smooth forehead. This was going to be very difficult to explain to the healers, but Obi-Wan would try. He knew that Tahl would be upset about Bant's actions, but that was a secondary fear. Bant needed to be looked over; and perhaps it was selfish, but Obi-Wan did not think he could rest until he was certain she had not been permanently harmed.  
  
~*~  
  
    Bant lay on the couch in the common room of Qui-Gon's quarters, and Obi-Wan sat beside her on the floor, his hand stroking her shoulder as she dozed. The healers had given her something for her nerves. The Mon Cala was rattled badly enough that even with the help of a Jedi counselor, she had great difficulty calming herself. Now she looked numb and pale, but at least she felt safe to close her eyes.  
  
That was when his comlink had chirped. Obi-Wan answered it immediately, not wanting to wake his friend, and in a rush of relief realized who it was before they could even speak. Qui-Gon.  
  
“I received your message, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, tone concerned.  
  
“Master, I am … so very glad to hear your voice,” Obi-Wan admitted.  
  
Bant stirred, but did not show any signs of waking.

“How is she?”  
  
“Sleeping off the sedative,” Obi-Wan replied, pulling the couch blanket closer around Bant's shoulders. Eventually she would have to return to her own quarters for the benefit of humidified air, but for the time being it was more vital she had a friend close.  
  
“Tahl is frantic to get back to her, but neither of us is allowed to leave until our … situation is solved. Things have escalated here. I could use your help, Padawan. And I also know you need mine. I will try to be back in time tomorrow. I think … I have found a way to help you. Are you comfortable handling your current situation?”  
  
Obi-Wan had to think carefully before he answered that. “I … am not who she needs. She needs Jedi Tahl; she needs her Master. I … the court case, I do not hold out hope. Perhaps unwisely.”  
  
“I will be with you soon; you are not alone. Take care of Bant; she needs you. I swear to you that I will do everything within my power to return to your side. And I am sorry that you are alone in this.”  
  
Something that had been filled with jealousy and anger in Obi-Wan's stomach uncurled, and he found himself nodding to a Master who could not see him. Realizing this, he finally replied. “Yes, Master.” But there was relief in his tone. And after a few more words of reassurance, Qui-Gon cut the transmission, leaving Obi-Wan both soothed, and more worried than ever.  
  
Bant murmured in her dreams, and that brought the boy back to reality. He began to stroke her shoulder again, and the Mon Calamarian seemed to be quiet. Well. At least one of them would be getting some sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
    In the end, it had been the empty hilt of Bruck's 'saber, and Xanatos' mistrust, that had exonerated Obi-Wan Kenobi. An act of intended cruelty had aided those it was meant to harm. Qui-Gon had been right about the way the Force worked. And never, in his wildest dreams, had Obi-Wan imagined how resourceful his Master could be. Or that he would make it back from Centax-2 in time.  
  
The second day of the trial had passed in a blur, a blur in which Sano Sauro had not made friends with the court. And in which Qui-Gon had made a dramatic entrance, bringing something vital to light. Bruck's lightsaber handle had been bugged by none other than Xanatos himself. Within it, a recording device had captured Bruck's last words. It had been haunting to hear them again, and they kept echoing in the young Jedi's mind.  
  
_“*I was always better than you. Now I am even stronger.”_  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed hard as another wave of sickness clawed its way up the back of his throat. It was true. He and Bruck had been rivals. But he had never wanted to see the other boy fail. Let alone fall to the Dark Side and Xanatos' lies.  
  
_“**She doesn't look too good, does she?”_ Obi-Wan would never forget the venom in Bruck's tone. _“Bant is dying. I won't have to do a thing. I'll just make you watch it. We would have freed her if we got the treasure. But another person will die because of you. Right in front of your eyes.”_  
  
Obi-Wan still felt sick. Last night those words had nearly come true again. It was ironic when Bruck's prediction had come to pass the first time. Little had his rival known, it would be himself instead of Bant, but that was beside the point.  Tilting his head against the cool wall of the 'fresher, Obi-Wan fought back a flood of nausea, and his hand came up to touch the bruise swelling at his cheekbone. Kad Chun had given him that, and he had not even tried to fight back.  
  
_“***I will never forgive you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. In my eyes, you will always be a killer.”_  
  
A killer. Cerasi. Melida/Daan. Bruck.  
  
“Padawan, you have to come out of there sometime,” Qui-Gon said quietly, voice muffled by the 'fresher door.  
  
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan replied obediently, opening the door a crack but refusing to leave just yet.  He was ominously queasy, and the last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself.  
  
What he had not been expecting was for Qui-Gon to push the door open the rest of the way, and sit down beside him. Somehow the big man in such a small space seemed absurd. But the cup of chamomile tea with honey that was set down on the floor tiles, then nudged toward Obi-Wan, was anything but. The apprentice tried to say 'thank-you' but a wave of grief welled up in his chest, cutting off his words.  
  
It was difficult, but Obi-Wan did finally manage to pick up the cup and take a sip. Between that, and the love and reassurance he felt trickling its way through their damaged bond, Obi-Wan was able to calm his stomach. Though he was not ready to stand yet, and Qui-Gon did not make him. The older Jedi just sat there, steadfast and calm, and the Padawan drank that in as much as the tea. He did not know what his Master was waiting for, but he sensed that was what Qui-Gon was doing. So Obi-Wan did not ask. He was much too exhausted, and he probably didn't want to know the truth, anyway.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon was unable to sleep. He was uneasy. The entire evening after the trial had been a delicate dance. One that required him to find a way to comfort Obi-Wan, and Tahl. The Noorian had been beyond desperate to get back to her Padawan, an experience she had never had before; and she had been both savagely protective, and coolly defensive to him no matter what he did. Obi-Wan, on the other hand … Qui-Gon was waiting for the inevitable. His Padawan had done a remarkable job of keeping his emotions at bay, but that would only last so long. The trial had been cruel on the boy's self-esteem. Even hearing the words of exoneration from the court had not been enough. Or perhaps they had, and that reality had not sunk in yet. Either way, Qui-Gon was concerned.  
  
That very anxiety was also what led him to leave bed and check on his Padawan, who should have been sleeping. Yet part of the big Master was unsurprised to find him absent from the bed in his room. Or anywhere within their quarters. And grumbling quietly to himself, Qui-Gon dressed hastily, making his way toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He was certain that was where he would find his wayward apprentice. At four in the morning. Because that was when all self-respecting Padawans had emotional breakdowns.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan stood at the top of the falls, barefoot. The cold water running over his feet was strangely grounding as he leaned out, looking down over the waterfall and to the rocks below. This was where Bruck had fallen. There was an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that made the young apprentice mistrust himself. Part of him had come here for closure. The other part had … come here feeling as though he deserved to be punished. And like Bant the night before, he felt himself drawn to do something irrational.  
  
There was a tightness in his throat. It grew stronger and stronger, and his eyes began to burn. He was angry at himself. Angry with the tears that he refused to let fall. He didn't deserve them. Bruck couldn't even cry anymore. He was dead. And Obi-Wan had not saved him. At some point, the situation had morphed from Bruck's death being Obi-Wan's fault, to him failing Bruck. And the young Jedi was not certain which ideation hurt more.  
  
“ _In my eyes, you will always be a killer.”_  
  
“No!” Obi-Wan gasped out to the darkness threatening. He peered down into the pool below, knees shaking at the impulsive need to jump that was pulling at him. If he was a killer … then he should not be allowed to continue. What if he turned to the Dark Side? What if he became like Xanatos? He could not even bear the thought, and he had just leaned forward, the siren song of the water pulling him, when there was a surge of the Force around him, and a splash behind him.  
  
And Obi-Wan half-turned only to be enveloped in his Master's arms. He froze for a moment, not quite certain what had almost come to pass, only knowing that whatever it was had been terrible. Qui-Gon had wrapped him in the Force, had held him fast so he could not … so he did not jump. Which was what he had been contemplating. He had. And that realization terrified him. It shook him so badly that the tears started, and he could do nothing about them. And his Master did not ask him to.  
  
“It is alright, Obi-Wan. It is alright, my apprentice. It did not happen. Let it go. Let the tears come. It is time to grieve. It is time to forgive yourself. Please stay with me. I need you. You are not broken. You are my Padawan.”  
  
And when Obi-Wan sank to his knees in the icy water, Qui-Gon went with him, kneeling as he pulled his apprentice even closer, holding him tight to his chest. Even when silent tears turned into heart-wrenching sobs, the big man did not falter. The sound of the falls and the rush of the current against them drowned out the majority of Obi-Wan's cries, but it did nothing to mask Qui-Gon's tears, which ran freely down his face as he rested his cheek against Obi-Wan's shorn hair. He had nearly been too late.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan's sobs had quieted, though his hiccups had not ceased. And somehow, Qui-Gon had managed to stagger them both out of the river and back to their quarters. There the big Master had dried them off, and settled Obi-Wan to the meditation cushions by the windows to warm up beneath a dry robe. The first light of the Coruscant sun was painting the horizon as the big man sat down beside his apprentice once more.

Some would have seen his Padawan's behavior as proof that the boy was not cut out to be a Jedi. For Qui-Gon, it was indelible evidence that he was. Obi-Wan's fear that he could become a monster, that he could hurt others he had given up a chance at a normal life to help, only clinched it. It was self-awareness, not self-doubt. And this was not the first time his apprentice had debated giving his life to aid another, to prevent harm to innocents. Of course, it was clear that Qui-Gon had some teaching to do in concepts like 'coping' and 'support'. But Obi-Wan was letting him help. He was not hiding away anymore. And he had stopped when reminded that he was not alone; that he was needed even when he was hurting. There was not a Jedi alive that had not been where Obi-Wan was right now. That was, if they were honest about it.  
  
“Please don't tell anyone. I didn't mean to ...” Obi-Wan's trembling voice broke the long silence. His expression was a mixture of grief and personal horror, and he was still wiping angrily at the tears running unbidden down his cheeks.  
  
“Padawan, this is between you and me. You are not under a microscope. You are allowed to have moments of anger, grief, and weakness. And to overcome them. On your own, or with help. A true Jedi admits that the Dark Side is a real and daily presence in his life. That is the reality of it. The darkness is only half a step away, waiting for us to fall so it can take hold. But that is why the love and support of a Master, and the kindness and strength of a Jedi's friends, are most important. Yes. I am concerned; you are my apprentice, you are the future. Your light is needed, and to lose you would be devastating; not only to me, but to the Temple. You are loved. I know that is hard to see when you hate yourself so much right now. But do not hate. That is the way of the Dark Side. Instead, grieve. Grieve that you and Bruck could not be friends, even though you would have preferred that to rivalry. Grieve over your love for Cerasi, and the death of the dream you so longed to see come true. Grieve for your losses; weep deeply. For the world is not full of brave soldiers and heroes as you once thought, but beings doing both right and wrong, and hoping for the best. These are the unspoken truths of adulthood. And they are horrible. No one can judge you for grieving for your innocence. Everyone has. Everyone.”  
  
“You mean I'm not ... just … for Bruck?” Obi-Wan's eyes were wide. He knew he had been struggling with self-blame and the loss of Cerasi, but he had not realized that, while Bruck had been the tip of the iceberg, there were a dozen incidents tangling together as one to form a terrible amalgamation of hurt. The young apprentice had been trying to view them as separate occurrences, but the human heart did not work like that. And even as a Jedi, it was hard to compartmentalize his problems. Perhaps because he was a Jedi, and had just come to realize how deeply entwined he really was with the Force and those he sought to help.  
  
“No, Padawan. You have lost your childish view of the world as well as tasted death. That is both growth, and terribly saddening. The light in your world went out, and you have been disillusioned. But there is still light within you, and that is what you are forgetting. This much is clear to me, as it is to others on the outside looking in, but I know that you cannot see it at the moment. Just like you cannot see the Force twining around you, aching to comfort your pain as much as I do. Let the Living Force guide you, live in the now, and remind yourself that when it is dark, the light of day shines all the brighter for it. There is a balance. Happiness and sadness. There is supposed to be. You will understand in a moment.”  
  
Qui-Gon turned to look intently out the window, indicating that Obi-Wan should do the same.  
  
Obi-Wan was so lost in his pain that at first he did not see anything. But then he felt Qui-Gon's broad chest against his back again, and those warm arms closing around him. His center was there, despite everything, and even though it was weak, his Master helped him open to it.  
  
And the moment he let go ... The moment he trusted Qui-Gon to support him, and the Force to help heal his broken heart, he realized what his Master had meant.  
  
The sun rose over the horizon, nearly blinding as it painted the skies in reds and golds. It was not warm enough yet for the smog of Coruscant to block out the light, and it felt like Obi-Wan was seeing a sunrise for the first time. The sun would always come up, and darkness would always fade. And even though it hurt right now, it wouldn't always. Never as badly, and never the same way.  
  
“I'm not a killer,” Obi-Wan whispered softly, letting his head fall back against Qui-Gon's shoulder, letting their combined Force-signatures pull him into the beginnings of a healing trance.  
  
“No. You are not a killer. A Jedi must take lives sometimes, and sometimes those around him die because he protects others. It is ugly, but it is the way of things. You have as much right to live as any other being.”  
  
Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan nod, and that was enough for him. He then let them sink into a trance together. To rest, to heal, to let the Force refresh their tired hearts. It had been hard, but they were both coming out on the other side of the situation wiser than the big man could have ever dreamed.  
  
And with that, Qui-Gon put his fears away. Because they would do him no good. Almost did not count, and Obi-Wan was still here with him. Where there was life, there was hope.  
  
~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
**A/N:** Well, that was a ride, wasn't it? Take a deep breath with me. Okay. Don't worry. It's going to get better. This was just a really hard thing for Obi-Wan and Bant. (Qui-Gon too.) As you can probably tell, I moved some time-line stuff around and played the cards my way. Hey. It's what I do. And as a side note, the italicized quotes are directly taken from Star Wars: Jedi Apprentice: Special Edition: Deceptions pp *72, **73 and ***78. I skipped a lot of courtroom details because frankly, I don't need to retell the whole book, nor do I need to spoiler everyone to kingdom come  <3 Thank you so much for reading! You folks are the best audience ever <3  
  
**Disclaimer:** I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. **Yes. Positive, encouraging comments are welcome <3**  
  
**Alpha Reader:** All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
**Beta Credit:** All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
**Zeta Reader:** All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

 

 **Chapter Seven:**  
  
    Obi-Wan's head was screaming in pain, the scars around his bond with his Master as raw as his emotions. And he was still shaking from the trauma of the day when he surrendered himself to the Force. With his head back against Qui-Gon's shoulder he could feel the big man's heart beat in time with his, and the surge of green ribbons of energy twining around him, binding with his own blue tendrils where they were weak. It was frightening to give up his sense of personal control. On the other hand, he had not done such a wonderful job of assuaging his emotions on his own. Help was not unwelcome, and Qui-Gon was not pushing him.  His Master knew when, and when not to.  
  
Trust. He could trust the other Jedi. It was nerve-wracking, but he was slowly learning.  
  
True to form, Qui-Gon was grounding him again; allowing Obi-Wan to become one with the pulse of life. Of existence. The Force was like a whisper of light in the dark between Master and Padawan, making that broken, empty place within Obi-Wan come alive despite the fact that the boy found it hard to believe in anything anymore. And while the young apprentice was aware that the Force had always been there for him—yes, even when he struggled to connect with it—it did not change the fact that he felt angry, abandoned, and betrayed.  
  
Deep down Obi-Wan knew that he had been the one pushing the Living Force away. It, _and_ his Master. And that some of how he felt right now was his fault. Yet the anxiety to be hurt in the way he had back in that internment camp on Phindar was overwhelming. He might not have been so inclined to experience things as he did had his childish ideals not been shattered, but part of him wasn't ready to give up his outrage. It wasn't easy to learn that the majority of what he had been taught at the temple was impractical … foolishness. And while Obi-Wan knew his fears and his anger weren't befitting of a Jedi, he was feeling them. Being ashamed, or not, didn't change that, and ignoring feelings didn't make them go away. Despite all his training, despite all his sacrifices, emotions would keep happening to him because he was human.  
  
Admitting his negative feelings existed was a painful truth; but acknowledging the Dark Side within himself made something knotted in Obi-Wan's stomach untwist. He had spent his entire youth trying to cleave to the light, shunning the dark. And yet only now he was learning that it, like the light, had always been there within him. A Jedi wasn't a perfect being. A Jedi Knight was a balance, and had to be strong enough to admit that he had the ability to do as much evil as he could great good ... and that sometimes darkness was necessary.  
  
Being honest with himself didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but a sound of pain left the boy before he could stop it. And in response, Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him, a hug within an embrace. There was only understanding in the gesture, not judgment. Which reminded Obi-Wan that his Master wasn't leaving him, even if he was upset, unbalanced, and angry.  
  
Taking a few more deep breaths, the struggling apprentice forced his muscles to relax, trying to ease the ache in his head. And letting Qui-Gon's steady heartbeat comfort him, he then began sorting out the dark emotions tangling in his chest. He imagined his troubles as colored blocks, stacking them based on their underlying topic, emotion, and hue. It was difficult, and as intense as taking apart and reassembling a convoluted puzzle. That was why he startled when he felt his Master grasp their bond. The touch was light and supportive, yet Obi-Wan very nearly jerked away and dropped out of meditation.  
  
/Easy. I'm sorry that I surprised you./ Qui-Gon's mental voice was sheepish.  
  
The big man shoved down his own frustration as he rubbed Obi-Wan's shoulders, increasing the flow of Force energy between them until his apprentice relaxed enough to fall back into deep trance once more. He had merely been trying to comfort Obi-Wan's headache. While his Padawan was healing, the damage was far from repaired; and Obi-Wan's reaction had proven that. It seemed they could speak, but not touch life forces. The latter being the very thing that was necessary for healing. The irony wasn't lost on Qui-Gon, and he felt his own sense of embarrassment at Obi-Wan's response. The boy was like an abused Akk dog flinching at a raised hand. And while the older Jedi knew this was not all his doing, it wasn't _not_ , either.  
  
/It isn't your fault, Master,/ Obi-Wan's tone was both skittish, and mortified at his actions when he interjected, derailing Qui-Gon's guilt.  
  
/I was not trying to harm you. This is a normal amount of contact between Master and Padawan. I know you are frustrated, too, and this is not something you can completely control. But I will do my best to earn your trust again, and to help you heal. To help _us_ heal. Obi-Wan, we need our bond. In dangerous situations this might be the only thing we have left to rely on./ Qui-Gon sighed.  
  
/I can hear you./ The reply was defensive, and Obi-Wan knew it. But he had done _some_ healing. After all, they could hear each other consistently again. And it wasn't like he could hide his reactions when the two of them were this close. Yet ... he did feel shame that he couldn't allow Qui-Gon the simplest of touches when the big man had never, and would never, harm him in such a manner; when Obi-Wan knew this was what he needed desperately. He could let them touch when physical healing was involved. But anything that came too near that raw place within his head left his nerves jangled, and his teeth on edge.  
  
/You can hear me, but we cannot touch. It hurts you. That shouldn't be. The very thing you need to be able to let me do to help you heal ... is the very thing you are so desperately afraid of. Obi-Wan … /  
  
/I know, Master. I'm sorry. You said before that I am the one shutting you out. Now how do I _fix_ this?/ There was a mixture of hurt and anger in his reply, and he could not help it. He was torn open, and he could not stop the bleed of unchecked negative emotions.  
  
Qui-Gon's chuckle was not condescending. If anything, it was gentle and understanding. /Much has happened tonight. You are tired. Let us work through your grief together. Can you show me what you were meditating on?/  
  
Obi-Wan was surprised, and panic shot up his spine at the mere thought of what his Master was suggesting. Leave it to Qui-Gon to tackle a problem in reverse … The young apprentice did not feel like he was experienced enough to try what he was being asked to do. Or worthy of it. Yet he knew that if their bond worked both ways, there was no reason not to reach out to Qui-Gon. After all, he had done so more than once before they were even Master and Padawan. /I think so?/ he replied, trying to stay calm.  
  
When Qui-Gon turned him in his arms, Obi-Wan did not break their connection nor attempt to open his eyes. However, he did nestle into the crook of his Master's shoulder when the big man pulled him close again, and he could feel rather than see that fond smile. Despite the horror of his day, the boy was beginning to feel right like this. And safe. Something he could not remember experiencing since he had still slept within the creche. He wasn't going to be punished for being imperfect.  
  
“Go ahead,” Qui-Gon murmured gently, giving permission to his fretful, stalling apprentice.  
  
“Sorry,” Obi-Wan blurted, reaching out mentally between them, his contact still hesitant.  
  
This was a place the Padawan had been avoiding within his own mind, and his Master's. A place that he felt was not really his to trespass upon; just as he had initially believed about his quarters. But as he brushed the brightly colored conduit, touch feather light, he found himself welcomed. This was neutral space, and carefully he allowed himself to meet his master in the middle.  
  
And when their bond opened up in the opposite direction, with Qui-Gon allowing Obi-Wan to show him what he was doing, the boy was stunned by how good it was. The safe space of their training bond within his Master's mind felt quiet and nurturing, and Obi-Wan was careful to tread gently. Like this, it was less imposing; and Qui-Gon's trust and acceptance were so all-encompassing that it left the apprentice sorry that he couldn't trust Qui-Gon enough to allow … No. He was supposed to be showing his Master what he had been working on.  
  
Within the brilliantly hued haven, the pile of emotional puzzle pieces were still strewn about, but at least the majority were sorted. And with some encouragement, Qui-Gon was able to mentally nudge those remaining rogue colors into the most appropriate piles, then help his Padawan give them away to the Force.  
  
The process did not take all that long, and when they were done the boy felt lighter. Empty. Exhausted. But lighter. The pain wasn't gone, though it was easier to breathe. And when his Master's fingertips settled over the bruise on his cheek, Obi-Wan could at least allow him to heal that. The warm tingle as contused flesh began to mend left the young apprentice speechless. And when he finally fell asleep, cradled safely on Qui-Gon's side of the bond, both Master and apprentice were deeply relieved.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon sighed. Obi-Wan was finally, thankfully, fast asleep. The big Master took a moment to change his position, then laid them back against the meditation cushions. And as he settled his Padawan on his side, facing him, he pulled his arm out of the sleeve on that side and draped half of his robe across the boy. Obi-Wan rewarded him with a mumble, nuzzling closer until he was almost resting his forehead to his master's chest. But not quite. “Still worried about propriety, even in a trance. You are a stubborn, amazing young man, do you know that?” Qui-Gon asked, feeling Obi-Wan clinging to their bond, so entangled in the Force that he could not be awakened until his body and heart were ready to heal.  
  
It was both strange—it had been ages since the older Jedi had been this close to anyone—and heartening that trust was finally building between the two of them. Yes. Obi-Wan had a lot of healing to do, on his own, and with his Master. Yes. Qui-Gon had seen some of the damage within his apprentice's mind, but he had not been intimidated by it in the slightest. No. After this early morning, there was little that could surprise him anymore. What he had been most afraid of was failing Obi-Wan, attachments be damned.  
  
Qui-Gon had once told Obi-Wan that he would not let Xanatos' suicide haunt him. That he would not think back to the boy he once knew, and cared for so deeply, throwing himself into acid; his last living thoughts only to remain undefeated, and to scar Qui-Gon beyond repair. And perhaps Xanatos had managed the last bit. But not in the way he had hoped. What hurt the worst was the loss of promise. At any time all Xanatos had to do was step back from the edge. To turn back into the light, and Qui-Gon would have helped him. But, like Bruck, a point had come when his former protege had thought he had made too many mistakes to turn away from the Dark Side.  
  
Luckily for Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan was not like that. Today he had laid out each and every emotion, fearlessly cataloging them in front of his Master, and had acknowledged a great deal of life truths that were intensely painful to deal with. Better yet, he had the courage and sense to ask for help, and then to help himself as well. Even now, unknowingly, Obi-Wan was allowing the Force to mend his body and heart.  
  
It was true that there would still be much turmoil ahead for his apprentice, but that was part of becoming a man, and a Knight. And inadvertently, Obi-Wan was not just healing himself, but his Master as well. For today, Qui-Gon had changed a frightening pattern in his life. He had put his arms around Obi-Wan, and he had refused to let him jump.  
  
“I will not lose you. Not like this. I won't let you down again,” Qui-Gon promised, stroking a few tufts of Obi-Wan's shorn hair that had been pressed down at an odd angle from his impromptu session in the meditation fountain.  
  
~*~  
  
    Bant was excited, and Obi-Wan was bleary. He was clutching a cup of tea—heavy with honey and cream—as he tried to catch the piece of paper waving in front of his nose. Qui-Gon and Tahl were convening in the kitchenette, speaking very seriously about something.  
  
But the Mon Cala was not worried about that.

Obi-Wan had just awoken that afternoon, and Bant and Tahl had been chosen to visit him first. Of course, Qui-Gon had asked them to wait until he had plied his apprentice with plenty of tea and breakfast. It seemed that at least the tea had happened.  
  
“What … what is it? Bant. Hold it still! I can't read it when you're waving it around like that,” Obi-Wan murmured.  
  
“It's your new class schedule,” Bant said cheerfully.  
  
“A new class? But I've only just started memory training and advanced schematics!”  
  
“Oh, give those a rest for a while. You're in my classes. You'll learn things you need there, too. Like how to heal yourself properly.” She poked her friend in the forearm.  
  
“I'm never going to live that down, am I?” Obi-Wan moaned.  
  
“You should have heard Darsha; she was bragging everywhere until her master had her by the ears.”  
  
“I heard that your Master had to pay fifty credits to Mace Windu because he had bet him that you would best Darsha the first time you sparred,” Tahl interjected from the kitchenette, loving the glare she could not see but could feel from the two Padawans sitting on the couch.  
  
Qui-Gon chuckled, and Obi-Wan thumped his head back against the cushion a few times before he gave in.  
  
“Ugh. Let me see that,” he finally grunted, head still tilted back against the top of the couch in defeat.  
  
Bant slapped him lightly on the forehead with the paper, then offered it to him.  
  
Holding it above his head and into the afternoon sunlight, Obi-Wan blinked. “These are …”  
  
“They're classes for us emotionally impaired Padawans. You know. The troublemakers. There is one for dealing with stress, one for dealing with emotional distress, one for dealing with emotional and physical healing. And then …” Bant was batting her very long eyelashes at Obi-Wan, expecting his exclamation.  
  
“I'm in Master's class … you have got to be joking!”  
  
“Literature and Prophecy. With me,” Bant said, her orange skin flushing happily.  
  
“But I'm not a Consular!” Obi-Wan objected.  
  
Obi-Wan was already embarrassed by needing to rely on his Master so much, and his lack of control of the Force. While Bant's note was wonderful news—the classes did not require the same sort of Force minutia as combat and reconnaissance did, and would not push Obi-Wan too much while he recovered —It was not entirely what he wanted to hear.  
  
“Who?!” he grumbled, tone demanding the Master to blame.  
  
“Master Yoda,” Bant shot back, then blinked at him slowly; a Mon Calamarian way of expressing good will and warmth.  
  
It was hard to be irritated at Bant for long, and it was good to see her looking better.  
  
“They put us in the remedial classes, didn't they?” Obi-Wan grimaced.  
  
“Yes. Yes they did,” Bant replied, leaning forward to hug her friend. And when Obi-Wan hugged her back just as tightly, she had to bite her lip to fight back her tears.  
  
“I've been really worried about you. I heard about what happened. I know it's supposed to be a secret, but this is my fault, isn't it?” Bant whispered. “I made you upset, with my … stupid mistakes. When you didn't need my problems on top of your own … I ...”  
  
“Bant,” Obi-Wan interrupted her softly. “You know I've only been thinking the same thing, right?”  
  
And when the Mon Cala buried her face in his shoulder, he stroked her back reassuringly as she tried to calm her emotions. The last week was nothing but a blur of stress and pain, and Obi-Wan was glad it was over.  
  
And maybe, secretly, he was relieved to be in his Master's classes.  
  
Just then, Qui-Gon's comlink gave a chirp, and the big Master excused himself to step outside and take the call. And Obi-Wan squinted in the direction of the closed hall door. He hoped that this was not what he thought it might be about … and tried not to eavesdrop through their bond.  
  
~*~  
  
    It hadn't been about what he thought. But now Obi-Wan was crammed onto the galaxy's tiniest transport shuttle, his hands up his sleeves and his fingers clasped defensively around his elbows. Qui-Gon was suffering just as much beside him, if not more. They were not alone on their flight, and the two Amarans beside them on the other side of the aisle—if the minuscule strip of dirty metal counted as an aisle—looked just as uncomfortable.  
  
“Are you sure this is really a mission, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, not able to hide the hint of sulkiness in his tone.  
  
He had been uncertain about belting on his 'saber. He had been uncertain about leaving their quarters. And he most definitely could not believe an entire planet of nothing but water, beaches, and sea creatures could have need of not one, but two, Jedi.  
  
Qui-Gon, whose knees were rammed into the narrow partition between the passenger cabin and the flight deck, gave him a look that was answer enough.  
  
“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, looking away.  
  
Spira. They had a mission to Spira. A resort planet.  
  
Normally, his sense of adventure and curiosity would have been piqued, but at the moment Obi-Wan felt like someone had been punching him in the kidneys for the last thousand parsecs. And considering the shape of the seats that did not seem to conform to the build of most sentient life forms, that shouldn't have been too surprising to him.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon was watching Obi-Wan surreptitiously, gauging how his apprentice was feeling without having to pry or touch their bond. On all of their previous missions together, the boy had been eager to get out and do some work. His Padawan was at his best when he was helping others, and briefly he had come alive to interact with Bant, but other than that … Obi-Wan was practically listless.  
  
Normally his apprentice would be glued to the viewport, which Qui-Gon had made sure the boy had a seat next to; but for the time being it seemed the only thing holding Obi-Wan's attention was the plethora of refuse beneath their seats, and the pattern of the metal on the retaining wall. It wasn't an encouraging sign, but the cramped Master hoped that team morale would improve once they were on the ground and they could both stretch their legs.  
  
Then there was the matter of a good meal. Obi-Wan had not been interested in much, despite Qui-Gon and Tahl going to great lengths to entice him. But the Master had read that Spiran cuisine was much like Alderaanian, and so he hoped he might convince his apprentice to eat more frequently. The boy's 'chlorian count was not back up to where it needed to be, and use of the Force was still laborious for him. But Obi-Wan's secret wasn't the only one that Qui-Gon was keeping. No, he was sitting on the worst untruth of all:  
  
This was not a mission.  
  
Yoda had arranged some downtime for Master and apprentice, a retreat, he said, to give them both a badly needed chance to heal. Though the ruse was going to be a difficult act to maintain. Obi-Wan was still highly perceptive in his fog of depression. And already ... offended about the change in his class schedule. Suggesting he take a holiday before he was even a Knight would most likely leave him more stressed and upset than he had been previously. With Obi-Wan, it was difficult to prove that anything that did not push the boy beyond his limits wasn't coddling. Or a punishment. Or both. But somehow, Qui-Gon was going to have to figure out how to make everything work. And quickly, as their transport had just arrived in orbit.  
  
The two Jedi ended up bracing against each other, and whatever handholds they could reach, as they entered Spira's atmosphere. And while the rattle-trap shuttle they found themselves entombed in bucked, shimmied, screamed, and generally made both men fear for their lives, Qui-Gon could not help thinking that there was nothing in the universe like Jedi transport.  
  
Beneath his breath, the big man was positive he heard Obi-Wan mutter about the Order being 'cheap'.  
  
Not that he wasn't thinking the same thing himself.  
  
Beggars couldn't be choosers, but they could complain amongst one another.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan keyed open the door to their resort room, a look of relief on his face as he set his small travel pack—and the massive towels the resort provided them with—down on the nearest bed. He then stretched languorously, and took in a deep breath of ocean air. “This is infinitely better than the smell of wet fur,” he groaned.  
  
“I didn't spill that drink on purpose, I promise you that,” Qui-Gon replied remorsefully.  
  
“I don't think I've ever seen you do anything clumsy, Master,” Obi-Wan stated, trying to comfort Qui-Gon.  
  
“It wasn't a matter of being clumsy, it was that my legs and hands were completely numb.”  
  
“There was that, yes,” Obi-Wan admitted, rubbing the small of his back before tipping over onto the mattress. “But that is behind us. Do we have a mission objective? A briefing file? Anything? I haven't heard orders for … whatever reason we are here,” he asked the ceiling.  
  
“Theft,” Qui-Gon replied blandly. He had more or less told Obi-Wan that the shuttle was too cramped to allow them privacy while viewing data, be it written or electronic. And so far the boy had not questioned that. However …  
  
“Theft? Isn't that a job for our detectives? For _Spira's_ detectives?”  
  
“Yes, and no. I am under the impression a dignitary was involved. There was theft, then someone who makes a number of donations to the Order just … disappeared.”  
  
“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, pinching the bridge of his nose at the mention of politics. Even in his youth he had already had enough of that. “So when do we get started?”  
  
“Now,” Qui-Gon said, patting Obi-Wan's knee encouragingly. “Change into those clothes,” he pointed at the pack resting on Obi-Wan's bed. “We have to look like we belong here.”  
  
“Oh good, because I was beginning to believe I would melt if I kept my robes on a moment longer,” Obi-Wan replied. The boy still looked nonplussed, but getting off the shuttle had done wonders for his surliness.  
  
“You would have. Now if you will excuse me?” Qui-Gon hefted his own pack and headed for the 'fresher where he planned to change, and then, perhaps, mourn his knees in privacy. He did not have to look to see that he still had red marks and bruises from their flight.  
  
Obi-Wan was right. The Order _was_ cheap.  
  
~*~  
  
   Qui-Gon nudged the icy fruit drink towards Obi-Wan. The boy still looked pale, and his normal spark seemed lacking. It was really … what the big Master had been expecting, actually. And despite a large sandwich filled with local fish and pineapple, the vibrancy, love, and enthusiasm that he had come to expect from his Padawan remained sadly absent. And probably would for a while. A meal couldn't always make up for difficult times, though it had helped in the past.  
  
“What is our first objective?” Obi-Wan asked brusquely. The boy was trying, he really was.  
  
“To relax,” Qui-Gon replied, leaning against the bar and taking a long, slow drink from his own frosted glass. The drinks were refreshing after the dead, dry air of space and cramped quarters full of Vulpine fur.  
  
This encouraged Obi-Wan, who finally followed suit a moment later, but there was a suspicious look in those shrewd blue eyes.  
  
“Master?” Obi-Wan asked softly.  
  
“Yes, Obi-Wan?”  
  
“We're here on vacation, aren't we?”  
  
Qui-Gon had been in the middle of enjoying the cherry off the plastic sword in the top of his drink when he choked, then had to clear his throat several times.  
  
As he spluttered, Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead and sighed, “I knew it!”  
  
“Is that really such a problem?”  
  
“No, Master,” Obi-Wan replied after a long silence. The tone of his voice suggesting that it very much was.

~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
**A/N:** This is the start of that 'badly needed fluffy section' that every fic eventually gets ^_^ There's still a lot of powerful stuff to come, so having some light-hearted plot has been an enjoyable break for me. It's also fun to see that QuixObi sense of humor/back and forth beginning. Then there is the matter of, as my beta put it, “Obi-Wan, first person ever to NOT like a holiday :P” But don't worry. I think he'll get over it. Actually, I know he will. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! You folks are the best audience ever  <3  
  
**Disclaimer:** I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. **Yes. Positive, encouraging comments are welcome <3 **  
  
**Alpha Reader:** All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
**Beta Credit:** All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
**Zeta Reader:** All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter Eight:**   
  
    The day had been relatively lazy, which was something that Obi-Wan was completely unused to. And as night had fallen, he had grown increasingly morose. Qui-Gon had done his best to be good company, but the fear and grief were still heavy within the boy's heart, and he was restless. The change in light-cycle length between planets also contributed to the Padawan's predicament—unlike his Master who was unperturbed: sound asleep and snoring in the bed next to his.  
  
As far as rest went, the boy had tried everything to drift off ... including using a Force suggestion. But so far, his aching heart and over-active mind were having none of it. And when squirming a few more times to get comfortable did nothing to change how he felt, he finally sat up. The walls were closing in, and as much as he wanted to retreat into the oblivion of sleep, he couldn't bear the thought of being trapped in a small room anymore. It wasn't Qui-Gon's fault, or Spira's fault. He was crawling out of his own skin. His body and mind felt like a raw wound, and his connection to the Force as if it had been packed in cotton wool.  
  
Thus, in his borrowed pair of khaki shorts, sandals, and t-shirt—garments he was completely unused to wearing—Obi-Wan slipped out of their hotel room into the tropical Spira night. Thoughts of telling his Master where he was going, or leaving a note, were beyond him. And shoving his responsibilities and the weight of training to be a Jedi Knight aside for a few moments, he let instinct guide his steps.  
  
~*~  
  
    The humidity was like a second skin, pressing against Obi-Wan at every turn as he wound between the buildings and paths of the resort. The streets resembled a ghost town with nary a flickering street light to be seen. Then again, those weren't really necessary. The twin moons of Spira were more than bright enough, and the stars so intense that they appeared like pinpoints of white fire emblazoned into the heavens. It was … comforting.  
  
Doing his best not to think eventually led the apprentice down a steep embankment on a narrow footpath. One that plunged into a patch of tropical plants and trees. Frog song, and the scamper of lizards, were Obi-Wan's only companions for several strides before he emerged from the darkened tunnel of foliage, and that was when the pounding roar of ocean surf reached his ears.  
  
Suddenly, the boy wanted to see the beach they had flown by on their air taxi in; needing the salty air and open space in a way he could not explain. His pace quickened, and before long he found himself running. The trail was narrow, and with reflexes that were beginning to come alive once more, he nimbly sprinted ahead. The burning in his lungs and the bounding of his heart were familiar, and the exertion felt good. In his head, he was physically able to flee from his problems for once in his life; and his body enjoyed the release of tension.  
  
By the time he found himself on an open, sandy beach, he had to stop. With his hands on his knees and sand filling his sandals, he bent double to catch his breath. From that position, the first thing to attract his attention was the moonlight on the surf. And then he was breathless for a different reason.  
  
Coruscant was noisy. It was something that Obi-Wan hadn't really taken note of before because he had lived there for a majority of his young life. He was used to the constant stream of sky traffic, and the crushing throng of life—alien and human—flowing like blood cells through arteries. He was accustomed to durasteel and concrete, and the only green place within his reach being the Temple gardens with their machine-driven wind.  
  
That was why Spira had been so overwhelming at first.  
  
Obi-Wan was uncomfortable because the entire planet was ‘quiet’, and he had never experienced anything quite like it before. The only voices present were the ones that were supposed to be. The energy from the trees, flowers, and grasses sang, and the flamboyant ribbons of crimson, green, orange, yellow, and violet from the fauna around him made up a dizzying kaleidoscope of Force impressions.  
  
Falling to his knees, the boy watched the waves, fascinated. He understood how waves worked, of course. He understood the basic biology of a planet and its functions, from atmosphere to gravity. But what he had not expected was how prevalent the Force was. Spira was a world void of overbearing sentience, and full of _life,_ and he was suddenly aware of how long he had been existing while failing to … live.  
  
Taking a handful of sand, the young Jedi slowly let it sift between his fingers as he considered the twin moonlit paths sparkling on the breakers. Spira was offering a kind of freedom that Obi-Wan had never dared to dream of.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon had been exhausted, which was how, he reasoned, he had slept through Obi-Wan's departure. And while he had not been terribly surprised to wake and find the boy gone, his first response had still been panic. But that had quickly calmed when he was able to reach out through their bond, if ever so slightly, and found … peace on the other end. He was still not comfortable leaving his apprentice alone for too long, especially with the amount of stress Obi-Wan had been under. But the big Jedi also understood he could not crowd him. He had to give his Padawan a chance to work things out on his own and to develop his independence.  
  
Yet the ghost of Xanatos was never far from Qui-Gon's mind, and that was what had him out of bed at two a.m. Spira time, searching for his sandals. He also needed to give a friendly reminder about leaving notes, holo messages, smoke signals, or … anything really, to indicate a departure and return time. Masters could imagine all sorts of horrors befalling their charges, and tended to worry twice as much as most. Or at least, Qui-Gon did. Not that he ever let anyone know that incriminating detail.  
  
And when he was as presentable as he was going to get for the hour, the big man paused only long enough to pull back his hair before slipping off into the Spira night; skimming his and Obi-Wan's 'sabers off the night stand and locking the door behind him.  
  
He also needed to remind a certain Padawan about remaining armed. Spira was a resort planet, that was true. But it was not without its perils.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan had been meditating when he felt a change in the forest around him. He could do this because he had made a small discovery. As long as he did not get too near the place in his mind that was scarred, the Force … seemed to have found a way to flow around it. The ribbons that surrounded him were dancing and twisting naturally, coinciding with the movements of their corresponding plants and animals. And he could sense them well. But now something felt different. Something that was as comforting and familiar as Spira was foreign. His master.  
  
Had Qui-Gon come looking for him?  
  
The boy hated to stop or move, because it had been so very exhilarating to find something in the nothing that had become his life. He did not want to retract his Force senses, or release his center. For the first time in days he had discovered it—and held onto it—without help from anyone else. Yet he knew he should go. That his Master was, no doubt, worried. And Obi-Wan could not blame him. His first instinct was to reach out through their bond to tell Qui-Gon not to be concerned. But then … he remembered the searing pain. And so he did not. Instead he rose and followed that verdant green ribbon, greener than any other near him, into the darkness.  
  
~*~  
  
    In all of his time at the Temple and studying from countless books and star charts, nothing could have prepared Obi-Wan for the beauty of the scene he came upon.  
  
The boy paused on the edge of the jungle; the path he had been following had obviously been trod before this night, and by his Master. And where flora yielded to sand, a small strip of beach and rock filled with tide pools welled up. There, amidst a basin of blue, bio-luminescent water, Qui-Gon sat naked.  
  
The big Jedi had stretched out the length of the pool, head tilted back against a patch of smooth rock. His long, chestnut hair had been swept up on top of his head to keep it dry, and broad expanses of scarred, sleek muscle appeared to meld with the sand and rock he reclined against. Silver fish were darting around that prone form, and the velvet-curtain of night rolled away before the blue glow, creating an air of magic that Obi-Wan could not explain.  
  
The boy briefly felt guilty for being a voyeur, and wanted to call out ... but his voice had failed him. He worried that he shouldn't be there. Perhaps he had been wrong. Qui-Gon had not come out here for him. Obi-Wan might not have liked the idea of a holiday, but his Master most certainly seemed to. Or so he thought.  
  
/You can join me, if you wish./  
  
The voice through their bond was so serene, so soft that it did not come anywhere near where the young apprentice hurt inside. But he still jumped. Had he truly made so much noise? No. Qui-Gon could not have heard him over the crash of waves and the call of night animals. His Master had sensed him. Which meant they were still in tune, somehow. And Obi-Wan hadn't broken everything just yet.  
  
Swallowing hard, the young apprentice fought down the reaction of his body. Qui-Gon was nothing short of leonine, and the boy was not certain if he wanted to _be_ him, or just … be with him. But either way, he dithered for a moment before making his way over. And sitting beside the pile of the big man's clothing, he looked gracelessly out over the ocean, trying not to make his sudden rush of physical and emotional responses obvious. He wasn't ready to think about them, or what they might mean. Many apprentices had crushes on their Masters, and they outgrew them. He … just felt privileged to be allowed here. And was grateful that he was not in trouble.  
  
“The water is like a bath,” Qui-Gon said drowsily, voice a mere whisper beneath the crash of the surf. There had probably been a lecture or two forthcoming, but Obi-Wan had been spared by the quietude of the moment.  
  
“Are there … fish in there?” The boy asked lamely, then hated himself for the stupidest question ever asked in an awkward attempt to make conversation. He could see that there were fish in the water.  
  
“There are fish, small shrimp. A few non-stinging anemones. I was watching a blue starfish not long ago. It is safe. The plants are what give off the light, and none of them are venomous, either.”  
  
Qui-Gon looked up to Obi-Wan, smiling at the boy and the expression of wonder on his face. It was something he had not seen since their first mission together, and he had been longing to behold it again.  
  
“You are certain?” Obi-Wan asked, blushing as he looked back and forth between the pool and Qui-Gon's face. Embarrassment had made sure that any of his … biological responses to his Master had died away as quickly as they had come.  
  
“They have not bothered me once, though the fish do tickle your feet from time to time.”  
  
The big man moved over just slightly, indicating that his Padawan should join him.  
  
“It isn't proper of me, to invade your privacy like this. I respect you and I would never— ”  
  
“—Obi-Wan? I say this from one Jedi to another … would you please relax and get in? We may not own much, or have anything permanent to our names, but we have lives. We have our duties, and between them are the small perks of being who we are. Besides, I think you need this experience,” Qui-Gon interrupted.  
  
“You _really_ want me to get in?” Obi-Wan whispered in disbelief.  
  
“I want you to get in, and _relax_ ,” Qui-Gon amended, chuckling.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan had undressed with his back to Qui-Gon, as if he owned something the big man had not seen before. But he let the boy have his sense of modesty. That seemed to be an ingrained part of Obi-Wan's nature, and Qui-Gon would not try to change that. If he was frank, he was just glad to have him here. Alive and well, and seemingly … more refreshed than when they both had laid down to rest. And when his apprentice eased into the water beside him, the boy gasped in surprise.  
  
Qui-Gon hadn't been joking when he said the water was just as warm as a bath, and Obi-Wan's expression of wonder returned. Soon he was leaning forward fearlessly, studying the creatures at the bottom of the tide-pool with as much curiosity as they lavished on his bare toes.  
  
And any awkwardness was immediately forgotten.  
  
“Master, this one looks just like a jewel,” the boy whispered breathlessly, blue eyes alight with delight as he cupped something shimmering in the palms of his hands. Qui-Gon leaned over to look, as inquisitive as his Padawan.  
  
“That is a Spiran Moon Jelly,” Qui-Gon said knowledgeably. “It is too small to sting you. Yet. Were it bigger, it could.”  
  
“They must be even more beautiful when they are fully grown,” Obi-Wan said, watching the tiny creature pulsate in his hands, glinting moonlight back at him like shimmering mercury.  
  
“Some of them in the open water get as big as an X-wing,” Qui-Gon replied, his hands cupping to either side of Obi-Wan's.  
  
“Is there anything you don't know?” the boy asked humbly, expression softening as Qui-Gon's hands cradled his much smaller ones.  
  
“I promise you, I know relatively little. The universe is rather big, and I am a minute part of it. Just like your jelly,” Qui-Gon said softly. “But the littlest things can also be just as important as the big things. I assure you that if your friend there could sting you, you would know about it.”  
  
Obi-Wan had forgotten something very important, embroiled in death and grief as he had been. He had forgotten the raw radiance of life. Small or big. And very suddenly his heart was in his throat, and he could scarcely breathe for the awe of it all. “I can see how beautiful this being is, both inside and out … the Force flows around it, even though it is tiny. It seems like the Force cares about it. I know that where the Force is, there is life, and where there is life there is the Force. But this … I never expected it. But the Force is here whether I believe it should be, or not. Right?”  
  
“Oh, so you can see the Force now?” Qui-Gon teased; replying to his Padawan's rhetorical question with a smirk quirking up the corner of his mouth. It was as if some long-held suspicion of his had just been confirmed.  
  
Obi-Wan turned guilty eyes up to his Master, then looked away as Qui-Gon's strong hands freed the jelly. The big man responded by pulling the boy to his shoulder, where Obi-Wan eventually leaned, resting his forehead, and pressing his cheek against a silvered scar. The gesture was so trusting that Qui-Gon's heart almost skipped a beat.  
  
It would be all right between them. It had to be.  
  
“You do know that it is safe to tell me about what is happening to you, don't you, Obi-Wan? You have nothing to be ashamed of. I will never scold you for talking to me about your feelings. I can't help you if you don't. And I am your Master. You are supposed to need me sometimes. And I am always here for you when you do; or even when you think you don't, but you do anyway.”  
  
The boy nodded slowly, eyes closing. And the silence hung between them for a moment as Obi-Wan tried to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t wanted to lie to Qui-Gon, so he had chosen to stay silent. Obviously, he couldn't do so any longer.  
  
“After what happened on Phindar … it was like everything went dark. Slowly. As if my vision was failing me, but it was the Force slipping away from me instead. When you helped me find my center again, when I started being able to see through you—the way I used the Force, and everything about the way it looked and felt to me—changed. When we first sparred and I opened myself up … everything transformed. I couldn't sense the Living Force quite the same as I once did, but I could physically see it take shape. Every time you moved, the Force moved around you and I … I could see the flow. Everyone has a unique color, and a feeling and form that goes with that color. I ...”  
  
Qui-Gon sat up straighter, expression sober as he pushed his Padawan far enough back in his arms that he could read the boy's expression. Obi-Wan's blue eyes had winced open, and were now warily locked onto his own, looking for signs of rejection. … So. Perhaps things weren't better just yet. But the two of them were working on repairing the damage as they went, and that was the best they could do. “Obi-Wan—” he began.  
  
“—I know, it probably means I'm broken. But I … I'm okay. I just see things differently now. I did well tonight. I meditated, and I could find my center on my own. As long as I didn't touch the place where I'm hurt, the Force can bypass what doesn't work. I—”  
  
“—Obi-Wan. You're serious, aren't you?”  
  
“Yes, Master. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't understand it, or know how to explain it. Master Yoda once said that only powerful Grand Masters could see the Force take physical shape. But I'm not a powerful 'anything', so I thought maybe I was imagining things. Or crazy. Or … both.”  
  
“Can you show me?” Qui-Gon asked softly. The tone of his voice indicating curiosity, not disbelief.  
  
When his Master didn't demand, Obi-Wan eventually nodded. “I … I think so?”  
  
It was a step forward in trust for the boy, and both of them knew that.  
  
“You don't have to. But I have never known anyone with a manifestation of this type of Force ability. If it doesn't hurt, or upset you, would you indulge me?”  
  
The twinkle in Qui-Gon's gaze made Obi-Wan's shoulders relax. And for the first time since Phindar, he found himself eager to try. His master still had one arm around his shoulders, and the boy leaned into it for a moment before he reached up.  
  
When his wet fingertips touched the side of Qui-Gon's face, the gesture was so hesitant that the older Jedi had to reassure him by resting a hand over the top of his; but Obi-Wan did not pull away. Instead, his expression grew determined. Obi-Wan couldn't believe he was going to try this. To let his Master in. But it hadn't been so bad the night before. They had sorted out his emotions, though it had been on Qui-Gon's side of the bond. Tonight, he wouldn't have to do anything that hurt. Just … show his Master what he could see. And this was something he wanted to share! The beauty of the Force in this form was unparalleled. Unless, of course, one counted Qui-Gon reclining in a tide pool.  
  
“Okay, I'm going to try this. If I do something wrong, tell me?” the boy asked, his voice shaking. But his hands had stopped trembling. And tightening his stomach as he might for an anticipated punch to the gut, Obi-Wan reached out and brushed their training bond.  
  
There was a brief flash of fear, a warning of pain. A memory … but nothing more than that. And when Obi-Wan ignored it, it flitted away back into the shadows from whence it had come. In its place there was ... Qui-Gon. Green and warm and surprisingly … soft. Like being enveloped in velvet. The Force was humming around them, rolling like a loving, third heart beating between theirs. And when the bond opened up, when Obi-Wan became aware that his Master was standing beside him telepathically and their minds fell into sync, he let himself _see_ .  
  
Qui-Gon gasped.  
  
Allowing Obi-Wan to steer had its benefits, and in this case what the Master observed stole his breath. There was a myth on Qui-Gon's home-world about threads of fate connecting each living being to the universe, and to each other. And now he had an inkling of how that concept might have come into existence.  
  
Reds, greens, blues, violets, and golds tangled, twining around each other in a wind that seemingly had no origin. And the big man could not believe the power of the Force. He could sense it, he had always known it was there; how could he not? Yet to physically see what he had previously only felt, or envisioned in his mind's eye … it lent strength to his belief that the Force was love itself. Just watching Obi-Wan's moon jelly pulsing in the pool nearly stopped the big man's heart. And he didn't dare look towards the ocean, as the jungle around them was glorious tumult enough.  
  
/Padawan, this is beautiful. And overwhelming. Is it always like this, now?/ Qui-Gon asked.  
  
/Not always, just when I meditate. Or I concentrate on the Force. When it first happened, it seemed so natural that it didn't scare me. It still feels right. I think that maybe this was how I was meant to see the Force. Which is why it was so hard for me to grasp the Living Force the way I was taught at the Temple. I thought I was broken … but maybe I'm not?/  
  
/No. Obi-Wan. This is resplendent. This is … a gift out of tragedy./ Qui-Gon's mental voice was awed. /I am honored to be your Master, and to have you as my learner. You are healing. Look how strong you are becoming./  
  
The big man's words were accompanied by a stroke through the Force. The positive touch was shockingly good, and Obi-Wan first took in a deep breath. Then surprised himself by responding to the kindness with a feeling of cautious hope. One of the advantages of being this close was that he couldn't deny his Master's sincerity. And he honestly did not know what to do with the compliment, but he was trying.  
  
“Come,” Qui-Gon said, breaking their contact gently as he let the boy go, then levered himself out of the pool. “We should walk for a while. I want you to show me everything.” There was a sort of child-like reverence in the big Master's tone.  
  
And for the first time since he had become Qui-Gon's Padawan, Obi-Wan felt like he could do something right.  
  
~*~  
  
    Master and apprentice had walked until the sun turned the horizon gold and red, setting fire to the ocean. And Qui-Gon had taken his time, asking his Padawan all manner of questions while borrowing his sight. When the duo had finally made it back to their room, the sun had risen, and Obi-Wan had succumbed to sleep at last.  
  
The boy had only possessed enough gumption to towel the sand off of his legs, and toe off his sandals, before he crawled into bed. Now he was nestled, still dressed, between the sheets; curled into his pillow like it was a lover. His hair had stiffened into salty spikes, and he did look exhausted ... but some of the shadow that had been haunting his countenance had disappeared, and Qui-Gon was glad.  
  
The older Jedi was just as tired, but he was not ready to sleep yet.  
  
He was lost in thought.  
  
Obi-Wan was shyly sharing feelings with him again, and actively making an attempt to extend trust. He had also been an engaging conversationalist while they had walked. Qui-Gon had been glad to listen, learning some things that encouraged him, and some that burdened his heart. But one thing was for certain. It was as if he was seeing Obi-Wan for the first time. And he could no longer imagine taking another as a learner. Yoda was right; they were a good match. They just had to get through this dark time … and Qui-Gon was determined that they would.  
  
Looking the boy over once more, the big man turned and made his way to the ‘fresher. He undressed quickly, taking down his ponytail before starting the shower and then stepping beneath the spray. Obi-Wan's hair was short, but Qui-Gon's … he would not put his head on a borrowed pillow with half the beach in his hair. Half or more, he thought wryly, as he watched the sand pour down the drain.  
  
This was good for the both of them. Today was Qui-Gon's naming day, and he was another year older. And he found himself needing time away from the Temple as much as Obi-Wan did. The Temple … the big man was beginning to take more and more exception to the rules of his Order, and the way they trained their initiates. Obi-Wan should never have had to go through anything that he had.  
  
~*~  
  
    When Obi-Wan woke, it was mid-afternoon. His entire body felt stiff from dried salt water, and the only thing that he was certain about was that he needed a shower. His mind was sluggish, but he did recall last night—and the time he spent with his Master—yet he was blurry about the details. Sitting up slowly, his head aching, he rubbed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. On the bed across from him, Qui-Gon was sound asleep, and the boy smiled. Somehow, there was little more reassuring than his Master's trust.  
  
Obi-Wan tried to hold on to his positive mood, but after a few minutes of being upright, his headache went from nagging to screaming, and the boy wanted to weep in frustration. Why did this keep happening? Normally he would go to Bant, and she would ask the healers for something for him. But now … now she wasn’t here to help. And he needed to find some way to make the pain stop, or he was going to be sick.  
  
He was hovering at the edge of the bed, trying to remember where the 'fresher was, not sure if he needed it yet or not, when his comlink rang. Shocked—because normally the only one who ever called him was Qui-Gon—he dove for the thing where he had laid it beside his pillow, then smothered it into the blankets to try and quiet it. He didn't want to wake his Master.  
  
Around the second, obnoxious round of chirping, he managed to gather his faculties and dart out the door of their room to take the call. That proved to be a mistake, as the Spira sun was so bright he had to close his eyes and lean against the side of the building. But he did answer after some blind fumbling.  
  
“Obi-Wan!” Bant cheered the moment the line was open.  
  
“B... Bant?” he rasped in reply.  
  
“Hi! How are you? I was checking up to see how you were doing. I was pretty sure it wouldn't take you long to figure out you were going on vacation.”  
  
“You sound … very cheerful. Is everything all right?” Obi-Wan replied. Bant seemed at her most chipper when she was at her saddest, and before he had left he had already been concerned.  
  
“No, Obi-Wan, I'm great. But I wanted to tell you something. It's kind of important. At least, Master Tahl says so.”  
  
“Oh?” Obi-Wan replied, knowing Bant's voice was only that thick when she had been crying.  
  
“Did you know that today is Master Jinn's naming day?”  
  
Obi-Wan's head shot up, and he nearly knocked himself out on the rain overhang above the door to their room. Cursing softly, and trying to be quiet, he blinked around his increased headache. “Oh, Force. What am I going to do for him?”  
  
“He'd rather you didn't know, which is why Master wants _you_ to know. She said she is glad to tell you, but in exchange you have to promise to do something really embarrassing for him.”  
  
“I'm not sure I'd survive that. He would probably shove me into the ocean and claim it was an accident,” Obi-Wan teased. He was trying to make Bant giggle. And eventually she did when she tried to imagine that scene.  
  
“Oh, go on, Obi-Wan. Do something small for him. He'd like that. But if you get the chance, Master says you really need to remind him that he's getting old.”  
  
“She's standing right behind you, isn't she?” Obi-Wan asked.  
  
“Yes, right here,” Tahl replied, her smoky voice deeply amused.  
  
“Hello, Master Tahl,” Obi-Wan croaked.  
  
“Are you okay, Obi-Wan, you sound like you have a headache again,” Bant interjected.  
  
“I … just a little one.”  
  
“I told that man a dozen times how to help you fix those headaches. If he would only listen ...” Tahl ranted in the background.  
  
“Fix my headaches?” Obi-Wan asked.  
  
“I think I should go; you have a good time now, okay? I will get a list of your assignments for you from our teachers. When you get back, I can help you catch up,” Bant said warmly.  
  
“Bant, what did Tahl mean?”  
  
“Gotta go! You take care now!” Bant all but sang.  
  
And then the comlink went dead. And Obi-Wan groaned.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan returned to their room balancing a tray. He had bought them melon bread—a sweet pastry that was native to the planet—and some fresh fruits, which included more melon and coconut. For protein, there were strips of smoked fish wrapped in dried seaweed. It looked good, though the boy couldn't bear the thought of eating, not with his head hurting like it was. But his Master had to be hungry. Normally, it was Qui-Gon who took care of Obi-Wan. But todayToday—the young apprentice was proud—he had used his meager stash of credits to get them breakfast. And he had found something else. Something he thought Qui-Gon might like. He hoped.  
  
Traditionally, this would be a day of reflection and meditation for his Master. Gifts were only given by Masters to Padawans on their naming day, not the other way around. But for some reason, Obi-Wan could not help thinking that this … was the right thing to do. And he spared a thought for the present he had tucked away in his pocket before he keyed himself in.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon sat up at the smell of food. He wasn't really awake so much as he was too hungry to keep sleeping. But when he heard Obi-Wan call his name, he finally squinted his eyes open. And as he did he felt smaller hands press a cold glass into his.  
  
“Iced green tea, Master. It's already too hot for regular tea,” Obi-Wan said quietly, not wanting to intrude or have Qui-Gon think he was coddling him. But he wanted to show his appreciation, and finally return some of the care that the big man had been lavishing on him over the last few months.  
  
“Exactly what I needed, thank you,” Qui-Gon said, studying his Padawan in the bright light of afternoon spilling around the drawn curtains of their room.  
  
“You're welcome. I brought food as well, when you are ready,” the boy smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. And Qui-Gon noticed this.  
  
“I can feel your pain, Obi-Wan. Your head is hurting?” the Master asked, taking a sip of his tea before setting the mug aside.  
  
“It's nothing. I'm fine. I … I will eat something, and I will feel better,” Obi-Wan said, sidling away from the light.  
  
“And that is why you are nearly as green as my drink, and have one foot in the 'fresher?” Qui-Gon asked, noticing that his Padawan had been edging away to the darker corner of the room.  
  
“I ...”

“You can be truthful with me from time to time; I’m not judging you,” Qui-Gon grunted as he rose from the bed, crossing the room in two long strides. A brief look of panic flitted across Obi-Wan’s face. But before he could back away, Qui-Gon grasped him by the shoulder … and then pressed his ice-cooled hand to his apprentice’s forehead.  
  
When the boy groaned in relief, the big man smiled to himself.  
  
“I have some tablets in my bag. Bant insisted I bring them along,” Qui-Gon said. “Have one, then try to eat a slice of melon and lie back down. You have quite a lot of sleep to make up for.”  
  
“What about you?” Obi-Wan asked softly. “Aren't you tired and hungry?”  
  
This made the Master laugh. “No, Obi-Wan. You brought me food. When you are feeling better, I will rest again, too.”  
  
“I don't want to be a burden.”  
  
“You aren't.”

~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
**A/N:** Finally! This is Alpha read!  
  
**Disclaimer:** I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. **Yes. Positive, encouraging comments are welcome <3 **  
  
**Alpha Reader:** All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
**Beta Credit:** All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
**Zeta Reader:** All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are off to a rocky start as master and apprentice. But anything worth having is worth working for!

**Chapter Nine:**  
  
    When Obi-Wan woke, it was late afternoon. And the ache in his head had not gotten better; instead it had increased exponentially. The tablet had done nothing, and the boy knew why. Deep in his heart, he was sure that his grief and the pain were tied together with a tight knot of apprehension. Until he faced what he was frightened of, he would never move past any of this. What was happening was a facet of the Dark Side, and suffering had followed fear. It was as Master Yoda had said.  
  
Without having to open his eyes, the Padawan could feel Qui-Gon still in the room with him, and that the curtains remained drawn in deference to his agony, which he appreciated and regretted all at once. Spira was beautiful. He wanted his Master to be enjoying himself, not be stuck in a hot, stale hotel room with a stodgy, headache-stricken apprentice.  
  
And that was when Obi-Wan made a decision.  
  
Stomach rolling dangerously, and pain lancing through his skull with every beat of his heart, he struggled onto his side and pushed himself upright.  
  
“Master?” he rasped out into the quiet of the room.  
  
Forcing one eye to open, the Padawan could see Qui-Gon sprawled patiently on the bed across from him, and he winced at his blunder. He was sure he had woken the man, and he made a soft sound of apology as he tried to stand up, one hand to his forehead.  
  
“I am here,” Qui-Gon rumbled in reply, tone surprisingly amiable. Practically knowing.  
  
The apprentice managed to gain his feet, only to stumble, staggering against the side of the opposite bed. And falling to his knees, he pressed his forehead to the edge of the mattress.  
  
“Master,” Obi-Wan tried again, finding his words lost in his pain, but his determination still strong.  
  
One of Qui-Gon's big hands came to rest on his forehead, and it felt cool compared to the fevered heat of the boy's skin. The older Jedi was waiting for something, but Obi-Wan didn't know what, exactly. A second heave of effort found the Padawan crawling up onto the bed to bury his face into his Master's sleep-warmed shoulder, shaking in agony. He had never known a headache could hurt so much, and while seeking out comfort was uncharacteristic of him, it did not stop him. He was desperate.  
  
“Please help me. Please make this end. I don't care what you do. Please,” Obi-Wan begged. “Tahl said you know how!” Worn down from stress, hurt, and prolonged anxiety, the boy could not help how vulnerable he sounded. He despised his words, but they were the truth of his heart. And while he hated that he was invading his Master's space like a lost child, he knew he _needed_ this. The two of them had not come this far for Obi-Wan to fall to his fears.  
  
Qui-Gon was a stern, nearly unapproachable man at times, and what the apprentice had not expected was for his Master to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer, pressing their foreheads together as he rubbed Obi-Wan's shoulder reassuringly ... A sob left the boy’s throat. And then another. Crying only made the pain worse, but he was helpless to stop that, too. He was so afraid. Afraid that asking for help, and his fear, would make him unworthy, and that being weak would make him a bad apprentice. That, and that Qui-Gon would reject him again for not being able to solve his own problems. On the other hand, Obi-Wan knew he had no choice but to take a stand. And if Qui-Gon rejected him now, the big man would be going back on his promises. It was hard to trust without feeling a need to build a defensive case for himself, especially after Bruck, but the boy was trying.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon wiped Obi-Wan's tears away with his thumb before stroking a crooked finger down his braid. Despite his suffering, there was such determination and courage in that young face that the Master couldn’t help being moved.  
  
“You are brave. This is hard,” Qui-Gon said simply, reaching out between them with the Force and slowly wrapping it around them. It was not that difficult to take some of the boy's pain. Which he did, only to regret it. It was staggering how badly his apprentice was hurting, and the Master was more resolved than ever that they needed to mend this.  
  
“Don't … this is my fault. I deserve everything,” Obi-Wan said, not sure how he could take back what Qui-Gon had taken upon himself.  
  
“You don't _deserve_ this. You are young. You are wounded. And you are trying the best you can, to do what you are meant to do, and be who you are meant to be. There is no shame in that. I am here for you. I have told you that from the beginning, and I mean it most sincerely. I know you now, Obi-Wan. I know what it costs you to come to me, and to try to let me in again. I cannot blame you for your fear. But we can put this right, if you are sure you are ready. Tahl has let me practice with her in secret, and so have a few of the healers at the temple.”  
  
“Do it.”  
  
“It will hurt.”  
  
“I know. Do it anyway.”  
  
“There should never be pain between us. I don't like the idea, and I want you to know that.”  
  
“I trust you.”  
  
Those three words made Qui-Gon's stomach knot. That, and the pain surging between them with every beat of his Padawan's heart. Still, he brought his hand up, fingers spreading out between temple and jaw as he reached in mentally for their bond.  
  
Thankfully, it opened to him easily, and he used it to touch the Living Force; letting it flow through them and refresh them as he tried to nudge Obi-Wan into something closer to a meditative state. The boy was so busy bracing himself for further hurt that he wasn't able to relax, and so it took some time. Obi-Wan wanted Qui-Gon to do whatever would be unpleasant immediately, but the Master was not so willing. Permission could become forced far too quickly.  
  
“Control your breathing, and reach back for me. The bond goes both ways, and if you share the pain, it will be easier to stand.”  
  
“I don't want you to have to feel this,” Obi-Wan replied, shoulders trembling as he resisted. He knew it was already too late to hide his scars.  
  
“I have faced it right alongside you all this time. It is my right to choose, as you have, and I choose to stand with you.”  
  
“Why? Master. I don't … I don't deserve to ...”  
  
“You deserve to heal. Not just for my sake, but for yours. You have to accept that it was not the Force that was responsible for the bad things that happened to you, but fallible people. Myself. Other Masters at the Temple. Senators in power. Lapses in judgment, and youthful exuberance. None of these things are a failing on your part; they are simply the way of life. There is darkness, and light. Night, and sunrise. And pain ... then healing.”  
  
The boy stilled at that, and the surprise Obi-Wan felt skittered through their bond like a handful of ice chips.  
  
“I've been punishing myself.”  
  
“You have.”  
  
“You think I did this to myself?”  
  
“I think you did the only thing you could do at the time.”  
  
“How do I undo it?” Obi-Wan was beginning to yield to Qui-Gon's gentle nudges through the Force, his heart stubborn, but melting under the reassurance and care the big Master was sharing with him.  
  
“I am going to find the damage within, and I am going to remove it.”  
  
“And then?”  
  
“And then our bond will fill the place where your scars were, and it will no longer hurt.”  
  
“Like a bandage?”  
  
“Yes. Like a bandage. And like a bone that has been broken once before, it will never break in the same place again when it is healed. You have my word,” Qui-Gon said solemnly.  
  
Obi-Wan finally nodded and gave in. Nuzzling closer as his breathing slowed, the love of the Force united Master and apprentice until their hearts began to beat in time.  
  
The fact that the Living Force cared for Obi-Wan, and that he was a worthy part of it, was something that Qui-Gon was noticing was hard for the boy to accept. And he could feel that uncertainty between them still. “Trust me. Trust the Force. Let yourself fall, and I will catch you. Give me this chance.”  
  
Then the big Master tipped Obi-Wan into a healing trance, and the boy went without protest, going limp in Qui-Gon's grasp while letting down his shields. And as he fell, the Padawan reached back for something to anchor himself against the pain … and found their bond.  
  
“There,” Qui-Gon whispered aloud to himself even as the searing throb of Obi-Wan's headache became _their_ hurt, and the training bond connected.  
  
He had discussed this at length with Tahl, the method of the injury, and they both had agreed that perhaps the simplest way to rebuild what was broken was for Qui-Gon to relive the dark memories with Obi-Wan. And this time, at his side, as he should have been to begin with. Late was better than never.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan was watching his memories as a ghost outside of his body. Normally he was reliving every moment of this scene in a brutally realistic dream. Yet this time was different, and he was merely an observer.  
  
He could see himself struggling against the cold, hard steel of the bands that held him to the table, the memory wipe droid hovering just above him. But unlike his nightmares, there was no fear. Dully, he watched himself clutch the stone in his fist tighter before the machine activated, uncertain of what to expect. Luckily for him, things were different in every respect.  
  
This time, instead of pain and the smell of burning and fear ... there was only Qui-Gon. His Master was beside him, and he felt those steadying arms tighten around him physically as well as emotionally. It was just a memory, a horrible one, and he didn't have to face it alone again.  
  
And while he wasn't certain how Qui-Gon had tumbled into this place in his psyche, he didn't think it was an accident, either.  
  
/I am here,/ Qui-Gon whispered mentally. /I am sorry, Padawan. I am. You survived this with only the stone I gave you. With what little I allowed you. You deserved so much better./ The unchecked wash of sorrow and protective upset radiating from the older Jedi was nearly overwhelming.  
  
It seemed that emotions were just as much a part of communicating through their training bond as words. If not more so. And Obi-Wan's were roiling at the surface, too. Like this he couldn't hide them, and while it was embarrassing and raw … he realized that Qui-Gon couldn't shield, either. They were just two people, sharing a space. Experiencing things without any kind of control or filter. What was … was, and there was no description for such a level of brutal honesty.  
  
/I wanted to be your Padawan. I wanted to make you proud. I didn't want to lose myself that way. I wanted … I wanted to come back to you. I was meant to be a Jedi./ The memory of the droid's attack on his mind, and the headache seemed to have synchronized. Obi-Wan now recognized the pain for what it was: an echo of what had been done to him. It wasn't a headache, not really. It was a memory, and it had manifested physically.  
  
/I know. I know that now. Let me help,/ Qui-Gon reassured.  
  
Obi-Wan could sense his Master shifting in bed beside him, and his cheek coming to rest against the curve of a broad chest. The rough rub of fabric served to ground the boy, bracing him even though he was too deep into his trance to move or respond. He was also aware of his mind’s disconnected wandering as his body remained in the realm of the physical; and while it was disquieting, it not as bad as the young apprentice had feared. At least, not at first. He could feel Qui-Gon's touch moving inside of his head, the tickling brush and pressure.  
  
Then the searing pain worsened.  
  
Actually, worsened was not the word. Exponentially increased was more like it. Obi-Wan was now certain that his Master had been distracting him all this time, while trying to get a good Force grasp on an inner scar. And grasp was not a good description, either. Qui-Gon might as well have been hanging on for dear life, and it hurt! _Force!_ It hurt. If the big man had grabbed onto a nerve ending and twisted, it might have come close to this level of agony, and Obi-Wan could not help a half-stifled scream.  
  
Yet just when the boy thought that he couldn't bear it any longer, there came a wave of the Force, healing and green. The smell of burning was gone. The agony began to fade nearly as quickly as it had come, leaving only the scent of Qui-Gon which was something spicy and clean.  
  
And the young apprentice’s dark memory became just that.  
  
/Master!/ Obi-Wan cried mentally, heart still racing in distress as he tried to center himself again.  
  
/Do you want me to stop?/ Qui-Gon's determination bled through his words, but the fear of harming his apprentice sat just as near.  
  
/No. Keep going. I think it's working./ Obi-Wan's communication grew far less distressed as the two of them shared the Living Force, and the boy's breathing began to slow. The Padawan could feel Qui-Gon's relief just as strongly as his own, and he could only imagine how bad it might have been had they not been sharing the pain through their bond.  
  
/This won't be the last time it hurts like this,/ Qui-Gon warned.  
  
/I don't care. You're right. We have to fix this./ Obi-Wan was unflagging.  
  
/Then you have to let me in deeper./ The statement was more of a question on the big Master's part.  
  
/How do I do that?/  
  
/Trust me./  
  
/How?/  
  
/Like this./  
  
An upwelling of cool green washed through Obi-Wan's confused mind. He let it. And when it brushed against the wall he had put up to protect himself, carefully nudging past shields, the boy understood. This was his Master's touch. The contact was not an intrusion, but something that should have been there all along. Slowly, he dropped his guard further. The rampart shifted, and then it crumbled. But Qui-Gon did not push ahead and past. Instead, he was reverent. Carefully allowing healing to happen first.  
  
/Easy, Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon whispered, his touch gradually submerging.  
  
That was when the boy whimpered mentally, panicked and overwhelmed. And Qui-Gon stopped.  
  
The flash of memory then took them unaware, and Obi-Wan was back in the slave tunnels. His ribs were broken, his arms were aching, and his entire body felt like lead. He lay amongst some discarded burlap bags, shivering, his fever spiking.  
  
“This one won't last long,” a voice came, and there was the jolt of an electro-jabber.  
  
The boy convulsed, unable to cry out because he was so weak and thirsty.  
  
/Come back to me, Obi-Wan./  
  
And when the Padawan realized he was floating outside of himself again, he could not even look in Qui-Gon's spiritual direction. He was ashamed. He hadn't been thinking about being a Jedi. He had forgotten so that he could survive. And those days had been far too long and dark.  
  
He felt his Master’s hands drifting across his ribs, covering where the fractures and jab had been.  
  
/Padawan. I am here. You aren’t alone. And I am so proud of you./ The overwhelming combination of Qui-Gon's protective emotions was thick, and nearly as heavy as Obi-Wan's legs had been. Guilt. Pride. Love. Fear.  
  
As the memory of his fever began to ease, the boy's head started to clear; and slowly he reached out and down. His ghostly hands covered Qui-Gon's, and he tried to forgive himself. His Master was making an effort to teach him how to let go and nurture, and he was finding it impossible to stay embarrassed and angry at himself when all the older Jedi wanted to do was show him compassion and love.  
  
But that diversion only lasted for a moment longer before the pain in Obi-Wan's head flared again, and once more he was screaming while Qui-Gon excised what was broken. This time it seemed to go on forever until the healing portion began. And when it did, Obi-Wan could feel that his body was soaked in sweat, and Qui-Gon's wasn't much better.  
  
At least, he thought grimly, he wasn’t in this alone.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon was duly horrified. None of his practice had prepared him for what he would have to do, and mentally he was cursing Tahl. He tried to take as much pain as he could onto himself, but mind to mind contact like this was restricted in the Jedi Code for a reason. It could be tantamount to the worst kind of rape and torture possible when done without permission. But the boy was surprising him. No matter how bad it got, and it was terrible, Obi-Wan would not quit.  
  
The good news was that they were nearly through. Qui-Gon had been able to re-open the damaged neural pathways, and heal as he went. The bad news was … he had been caught off guard by the the weight of the memories the boy was carrying. The Master had wondered about the extent of what had gone on in his absence. But to see the enormity of it both broke his heart, and made him all the prouder to call Obi-Wan his Padawan.  
  
What he could not brace himself for was the memory of Bruck's fall, laced with tinges of Xanatos and Cerasi's death. The howls of grief that the boy had choked back. The guilt. The raw rage and the near fall to the Dark Side that Obi-Wan had been too broken and young to recognize. The aching hope and need to come back to a Master that would not have him. Qui-Gon felt like he had swallowed glass. He had been cold. He had been arrogant. Frankly, he had been pushy, even in the last few weeks while vowing to be a better Master. He had not known … he had not. He had forgotten his compassion. He had underestimated Obi-Wan, and the boy deserved better than that.  
  
When the last vestiges of scarring fell away, when their bond finally expanded to allow proper healing, communication, and trust … the boy wailed in surprise in Qui-Gon's arms, and the big man nearly did the same. It was such a relief. And when Qui-Gon was able to back away, the Force roaring between them instead of trickling, he was exhausted. He knew his Padawan was feeling even worse, but it was over. It was over, and he would be having a very serious discussion with Master Yoda when he returned. Of course, he would not be sharing some of the things his apprentice had divulged. It was important that the Council never catch wind of what Obi-Wan could really do. Their intentions had been less than honorable of late. At least, a good half of them.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan had fallen asleep cradled in the Force, and Qui-Gon's arms. When he awoke, his headache was gone. His entire body felt stiff, as if he had been beaten, and his borrowed clothing was still damp with sweat.  
  
Qui-Gon lay beside him, curled around him and half in a trance of his own. The older Jedi's chestnut hair was sticking in wavy straggles to his beard and forehead from his exertions, and they both looked pale in the low light. Obi-Wan should have been shy and mistrustful because of what he had just gone through. But he knew that his Master had faced it with him, and had been just as vulnerable. He might even have had the harder fight; and looking at the state of the older Jedi drove that point home poignantly.  
  
Cautiously, the boy reached out between them, and touched their bond. Feather-light and curious. And instead of pain, fear, and a host of backlogged emotions, Obi-Wan felt peace. Qui-Gon was awake enough to send a wash or relief and comfort back to his apprentice, who then spent a few minutes wiping the vestiges of tears from his cheeks. This was …  
  
This was what it was supposed to be like.  
  
And for the first time in many months, Obi-Wan felt true hope welling up in his chest.  
  
It wasn't that they weren't going to argue, challenge each other, face bad things, or be hurt. By each other, or by opponents. They were human. They both were Jedi doing a dangerous job. But for the first time since they had been reunited, Obi-Wan had an inkling of the breadth and depth of what Qui-Gon faced as a Master. And the lengths he would go to for an apprentice. Specifically him.  
  
At last he worked up enough courage to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind Qui-Gon's ear. The gesture was reverent, and appreciative. The boy also finally felt safe reciprocating. He had known that some of his Master's behavior was just prideful bluster, and beneath there was a warm, loving person who had been hurt just as much as he had. Being a Padawan was difficult, and Obi-Wan was finally becoming aware of just how much he still had to learn.  
  
He had also grasped that the Council was made up of fallible beings, his beliefs had limitations, and at last, he had come to see Qui-Gon as a person instead of putting him on a pedestal. It was both humbling and freeing. His Master had seen him without any masks, at his worst, exactly as he was; and had not only forgiven him, but accepted him back just as readily.  
  
~*~  
  
    Qui-Gon awoke to a Durasheet note on the side of the bed that Obi-Wan had been inhabiting. As he opened it, two things fell out of the meticulous folds. One was a ticket, with fine printing on it. The other was a braided leather bracelet, and set into its center was a smooth bead made from one of the shells native to Spira. Obi-Wan was gone, but a careful touch of the recently healed bond let him feel what his apprentice was up to. Namely, a swim in the ocean. Which did not sound bad to Qui-Gon, either.  
  
Curiously, he finished unfolding the note, and blinked at what he read:  
  
_Master, I apologize for not leaving you a note the last time I went off on my own. I would have invited you this time, but I thought I shouldn't wake you. That aside, Happy Naming Day! I wanted to give you something other than a headache for once. The ticket is to a local band that is playing this evening here on the beach. There will be dinner and drinks. The bracelet I cannot explain, other than I th_ _ought_ _you might like it. It does mean something to me, but I don't know how to put it into words. I brought my 'saber with me just in case you want to spar once you have had a chance to wake up. I asked the hotel staff to bring you another iced green tea when you are ready._  
  
The note looked hasty, and wasn't signed. Perhaps because it was extremely personal for Obi-Wan to talk about himself. Especially to put his thoughts down on paper. And that made Qui-Gon reflect on the fact that in all their time together, he had never seen the boy's handwriting before. After all, he had never had him in any of his classes. The tickets he understood, but the bracelet he picked up, turning it over thoughtfully. He noticed that the leather was braided in the same fashion as Obi-Wan's Padawan braid. And suddenly, it clicked. This was a physical representation of the boy accepting Qui-Gon as his Master. An apprentice could not give a Master a braid in return. However, Obi-Wan seemed to have found a way around that.  
  
In all of his years, Qui-Gon had never had a Naming Day present. Dooku was not the sort, and his previous Padawans had … probably been too terrified to try. But not Obi-Wan.  
  
And despite feeling like he had taken a beating, the big man believed that all of his efforts, and the boy's, had finally begun to come to fruition.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan's clothing hung from a nearby palm tree branch, drying in the tropical sun. He was nude as he swam in and out of the breakers, exploring some of the shallower reefs along the edge of the coastline. The motion was good for his aching joints. It was as if he had been sick for some time, and was finally well enough to begin to exercise again. His body had felt so distant and alien, but now it didn’t. The cold water felt good, and even the sunburn he was developing was amazing!  
  
The young apprentice had just returned to the surface after a particularly long free dive, when he recognized that he was not alone on the rocky spit he had been scrutinizing. And clearing the surface of the water revealed Qui-Gon. Once again comfortably naked, the leonine man had washed his clothing and it was drying beside his apprentice’s.  
  
For an instant Obi-Wan almost averted his gaze. But then decided against it. There was something impressive about his Master's ability to be comfortable anywhere, everywhere, and in nearly every situation.  
  
“You forgot sunscreen, Obi-Wan. You are already turning pink. As pale as you are, I think you would be worried about freckles.” The big man teased by way of greeting, tossing a plastic tube at the boy.  
  
Obi-Wan caught the tube expertly, then hauled himself up and out of the water to join Qui-Gon.  
  
“Come here. At least let me dry you off and put some of that on your shoulders. It might not be too late to save the rest of you,” the Master sighed, but there had been caring in that exasperated tone.  
  
~*~

   Sand sprayed everywhere as Obi-Wan rolled, regained his feet, and then feinted at Qui-Gon, using his captured momentum to run up the side of a palm tree. Swinging his 'saber up and over his head, he then turned the blade point down, trying to create a top-down thrusting scenario that Qui-Gon wouldn't be able to parry. He was quick, he was lithe, and being small had its advantages. Unfortunately for him, bulk, experience, and treachery were on his Master's side.  
  
Qui-Gon didn't try to step into the attack. He simply stepped to one side; and a quick Force-slap was all it took to knock Obi-Wan's 'saber out of his hand, slamming the boy down on his back in the sand like an overturned turtle.  
  
“You almost had me, there,” Qui-Gon said, a hand on his hip as he powered down his blade. He then stalked over to help Obi-Wan up. The boy was coughing hard, and the Master smirked as he knelt beside him, rubbing his back until he could catch his breath again.  
  
“Not fair!” Obi-Wan objected petulantly as soon as he had re-learned how to breathe, and spit out a mouthful of sand.  
  
“Your opponent won't care one whit for being fair, Obi-Wan. It was a bold move, and in some circumstances could have given you a killing blow. I applaud the effort, but I like you with all your limbs attached. And I intend to keep them that way for as long as possible.”  
  
“You could have been a little gentler.” Obi-Wan's unhappy blue eyes met Qui-Gon's.  
  
“I'm getting old. I panicked,” the big man teased back, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Obi-Wan laughed at that, a sharp, joyous bark of sound. And Qui-Gon couldn't help smiling, either. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard the boy do so.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan had been invited! And as he tidied his hair and braid, he smiled to his sunburned reflection. Qui-Gon had encouraged him to come along this evening. The boy had bought two tickets, but had been careful not to seem too eager. If his Master had wanted an evening away from his apprentice, and everything else for that matter, Obi-Wan would have understood and given the older Jedi some distance. As it was, the two of them had only just begun to find their balance, and that was worth its weight in Kyber crystals.  
  
Adjusting his robes, which he had decided on to cover his scorched skin, Obi-Wan knew he would match his Master. Qui-Gon was back in his regular robes as well. Besides, the sun was beginning to set, and the planet cooled quite a bit during the night. The boy didn't want to start shivering from Sun Fever. And Qui-Gon had been right. There was a blanket of tiny freckles starting to appear over the bridge of his nose.  
  
~*~  
  
    Obi-Wan had never tried alcohol before, but he had been offered a mixed drink by their hosts, and he was not one to object. So far he had nearly managed the glass, and it did not seem particularly strong. Doubly lucky for him, he and Qui-Gon had also just finished their meals, which helped to buffer any possible effects.  
  
His Master had enjoyed some sort of jerk chicken, coconut rice, and grilled fruit, while Obi-Wan had opted for the local seafood. Shrimp, scallops, crab, and a large portion of tender red-fish had made up most of his plate. A cold coconut and rice soup had been served as their dessert, and now it was all the young apprentice could do to keep his eyes open. It was the first time he had wholeheartedly enjoyed food in a long time, and kept it down to boot; and whether the alcohol and good company had anything to do with that or not didn't bother him in the slightest.  
  
Taking another sip of his drink, the boy felt the rest of the day's tension leaving him. Qui-Gon would watch him from the corner of his eye from time to time, but the older Jedi was now turned to face the impromptu stage on the beach. The sun had nearly set, and so that long, chestnut hair was back-lit in reds and golds in a way that made something low in Obi-Wan's stomach tight. Which the Padawan immediately did his best to ignore. The music was good, and Qui-Gon looked both content, and at peace. Which was all the Obi-Wan could really hope for after all the things he had put both of them through today.  
  
Deep down, he was also delighted that his Master seemed to be enjoying his company.  
  
~*~  
  
    It had only taken one drink, but Qui-Gon ended up having to carry Obi-Wan back to their room. The boy had fallen asleep during the band's last number, and a kind local had helped the big Master extract his mildly intoxicated, deeply sleeping charge.  
  
He couldn't blame the boy. It had been a long day, and it had been smart and restrained to only have one drink. Qui-Gon had downed three. But Obi-Wan was just that. A boy. And this would be a lesson in temperance, even if said boy did not end up with a hangover. Which he probably wouldn't unless it was from having a very long day, which was more likely. The older Jedi also expected that a growth spurt was on its way, as he had noticed the way his Padawan had been rubbing at his knees and elbows when he didn't think anyone was looking.  
  
Settling his weary apprentice down on the far bed, Qui-Gon tucked him beneath the blankets after removing sandy boots. The boy's lightsaber was then set reverently on the nightstand, closest to its owner.  
  
And Qui-Gon went for another long shower. He needed time to think, and to reflect while he had a moment to catch his breath.

~*~  
TBC  
~*~  
  
**A/N:** I think this chapter may be my favorite one so far. Things aren't fully resolved, and there is still plenty yet to come on Spira, but the plot is starting to come together and take on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it~ It was good to get back into the saddle again. I had some nearly-game ending health issues in the last three months and ... suffice to say I consider myself lucky to still be here, even if I did rely on Dragon to help me type the better part of this update :D  
  
**Disclaimer:** I am not a Star War's Expert*(tm) Thought I have been a fan for a very long time. I have not read nor experienced every plot divergence or spin off out there. I do not know everything. The Jedi Apprentice series was really inspiring to me, but I will not be cleaving to it exclusively. It is my goal to honor, as best I may, what I feel is appropriate characterization of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But I am feeling my way through that, and just like these two lovable lunk-heads, I have a lot to learn. So please be respectful. If this fic is not your cup of tea, the back button is there for you. I hope you can forgive any mistakes I make, and still find the heart of obeisance I have within my work, imperfect though it may be. **Yes. Positive, encouraging comments are welcome <3 **  
  
**Alpha Reader:** All hail to the glorious Merry Amelie http://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie  
**Beta Credit:** All hail to the glorious Eowyn. http://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn  
**Zeta Reader:** All hail to the glorious Invaliduser http://archiveofourown.org/users/invaliduser/pseuds/invaliduser

 


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